


Keep On The Sunny Side

by WizardGod



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Humor, Multi, Original Character(s), Parent-Child Relationship, Past Character Death, Reader-Insert, Reincarnation, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Transformer Sparklings, ratchet is forced to become the dad that everyone knows he is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-11 20:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardGod/pseuds/WizardGod
Summary: On the list of things that I expected taking a walk might result in, I did not include: Being crushed to death by a twenty-foot tall robot, being reborn as a giant metal alien baby, or falling in love.





	1. Chapter 1

 

"So, how far along are you now?"

I glanced up to see Beth eyeing my swollen stomach. "Seven and a half months." I grinned at her.

"This is so exciting! I'm gonna be an auntie! Have you picked out names?" Beth was the type of person incapable of speaking in anything less than a squeal - in high school, she had been bullied pretty badly for it, but I always thought it made her more personable. Her excitement was always genuine, and I never had to second-guess what she was thinking. Beth was easy, cheerful, and my best friend.

I shook my head no and heaved myself off the couch. "I know people always say this, but I seriously do miss seeing my toes."

Beth laughed one of her clear, tinkling laughs. "Don't worry, you're not missing much." she informed me as I walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water. "I've got athlete's foot right now - I  _wish_  I couldn't see my toes!"

The kitchen was bathed in a soft golden light - for the first time in two weeks, the autumn sun wasn't so harshly bright that it was blinding. The window above the sink had become my go-to spot for gazing and thinking when I was on my own during the day; I had a fantastic view of the front garden, the lawn painted in shades of gold and bronze as the leaves fell from the few trees planted along the sidewalk.

"We should go outside." Beth's suggestion was casual - too casual. She knew me too well, I'm sure she had seen the look in my eyes.

Despite the fact that I was dying to go out, I hesitated. "I don't know.."

"Oh, come on, Molly! It'll be good for the baby!" she squealed, bobbing on her toes in a manner distinctly reminiscent of a perpetually excited Pomeranian. There was really no refusing her when she got like that, and I didn't really want to anyway, so I smiled and nodded and got my scarf. As I was practically physically dragged from the apartment, I found myself absently grateful that it was on the bottom floor of the building. I couldn't imagine hauling my giant pregnant ass up several flights of stairs in the case of the unreliable elevator breaking down.

As soon as I got one lungful of the fresh autumn day, my mood buoyed. I had forgotten, honestly, how good fresh air could actually make me feel. It was sharp and cold, the kind of day that you could feel the cold in the air as you dragged it into your lungs, but the sun warmed the cruelty of the wind. Beth took a seat on the grass of the lawn and patted the ground beside her. She laughed loudly and joyously at my clumsy attempt to seat myself down, and poked mischievously at my bottom (which, admittedly, had gotten quite significantly rounder since I had gotten pregnant).

After I had slapped her hand away (ignoring her indignant squawk, because she had deserved it), we sat in contented silence for several long, glorious minutes. The grass was slightly damp beneath us, but the sun was warm and the air was chill and we couldn't have cared less anyway. Out of pure ingrained habit, I pulled my phone out to check for any messages, and paused when I saw I had a notification. "Paul's coming home early."

"That's good." Beth said absently, casting her fingers through the delicate blades of grass. When I didn't reply, she looked up. "Isn't it?"

I was silent for a moment, chewing the inside of my cheek. "We're.. having small problems." I admitted.

All traces of good humour had vanished quite abruptly from Beth's face. "What kind of problems?" she asked suspiciously.

My fingers twitched over my protruding stomach, and I tried to pull down my top where it had begun to ride up over the bump. "Mmm..."

"Is he drinking?" her gaze had turned sharp and serious, her eyes as grey as bedrock. Beth was rarely serious like this, and the uncharacteristic change in demeanour made me take her more seriously than I would have otherwise.

I sighed and nodded slowly. "Yes. But not much! I mean, it's a problem, but it's not so bad that I can't handle."

"No, Molly! Come on, sweetie. You're pregnant." Beth waved a hand weakly at my abdomen, as if I had somehow forgotten about the baby I had been carrying around inside of me for nine months. "You want to start a family. Neither you or the baby deserve to have Paul coming home drunk every night."

"It's not every night!" I said quickly.

Beth shot me a pained look. "Please stop making excuses for him. Does he hit you?"

"Stop." I pleaded. I knew she hadn't missed my flinch.

"Tell me the truth; if it weren't for the baby, would you stay with him?"

My jaw clenched, and I had to look away. I could feel the telltale sting of tears pricking my eyes, and I angrily wiped at my eyes. "Damn hormones."

Beth sighed and leaned forward, capturing me in a tight hug. "It's gonna be okay, Molls. Everything's gonna be good."

Beth had always been a bad liar, ever since we were kids. I didn't have the heart or the stomach to call her out on it. "Yeah."

"Come on." she bounced to her feet like a rocket. "Let's go for a walk!"

Walking when I felt like an elephant with enormously swollen ankles was not my idea of fun , but Beth was already hauling me up. For a small girl, she had the strength of Hulk Hogan.

"To the park!" she cheered, and I smiled. She was going to make a great auntie.

Getting to the park felt like one the Twelve Labours of Hercules. I am not an athletic person, that is a key part of my personality - I love sleeping, I love food, I love drawing, I love kittens. Exercise? No. In contrast, Beth is quite frighteningly athletic. She jogs. For  _fun_. Sickening.

We were just walking past the local playground, which was packed with kids laughing and enjoying the beautiful day, when Beth grabbed my arm and gaped at the road. I turned to see what she was staring at and caught sight of a very nice yellow car. A very expensive looking one, too. "Holy shit." Beth whispered, gaping at the car in astonishment.

My lips quirked up in a smile. In addition to being a sports freak, Beth was a massive car nerd. Basically every man's dream woman (please note my heavy sarcasm here). "Good car?"

Beth levelled me with a withering look. "That's a Lamborghini. It's more than  _'a good car_ '."

I grinned. "Excuse the fuck outta me. I can't even drive, what would I know?" We both laughed, and then I turned to look at the kids playing. I could feel a wistful smile tug at my lips as I watched little girls dance and play around. Privately, I hoped for a little girl more than anything. But even saying that, I really don't mind. I know that's something all expecting parents say - "Oh, I don't mind so long as they're healthy!" - but it's true. I couldn't care if my kid came out with four extra limbs - a baby would be camaraderie, it would be a new little personality to help stave off the crushing loneliness that threatened to overwhelm on the bad days. I glanced at Beth and saw that we had matching wistful expressions on our faces, except she was staring at the Lamborghini. I snickered and shook my head.

A curious sound hissed through air, shattering the peaceful atmosphere. It sounded like hydraulics whirring, but  _wrong_  - it was too loud, too computerised. "What-?" I began, but was cut off by a single, shrill scream. A child's scream.

It was as if the scream was some kind of catalyst - a volley of screams rose into the air, and people began to run. I yelped and struggled to protect my vulnerable stomach as stray elbows carelessly smacked into me in the frenzy to escape the park. I heard a panicked scream of my name - Beth - right as someone crashed into me hard, and knocked me to the ground. Panic swelled sour and sharp, and I desparately tried to curl over my belly to protect my baby from the frenzied stampede. I could have sobbed in relief when the frantic pounding of footfall around me lessened, but then I realised that the sound of hissing hydraulics was closer. And it was accompanied by a shaking of the ground and a thrum of energy, so strong I felt my hair stand on end and my throat close over.

There was a monster standing above the park, and it was laughing. I saw blood red eyes, I saw oil splashing from its joints like black blood, and I saw a titanic, metal foot swinging down above me.

I had no chance of getting up fast enough, not encumbered with the extra weight from the baby.

There was the foot, and blinding pain, and then nothing.

* * *

And then I opened my eyes.

That in itself was such a shock that I couldn't move for several long, stretching moments. When I managed to pull myself together, I dragged myself up into a sitting position and looked around. It was in.. a field? "Wha-?"

"Greetings, child."

The noise that scraped free of my throat was similar to the sound a panicked goat might make if you pushed it out a window, and I was on my feet so fast that I fell straight back down again. Beside where I had woken up, there was a metal person sitting in the grass. He was human sized, unlike the one from the park. That thought hit me unceremoniously with the memories I had briefly pushed out of my mind. "Oh my god. I'm dead. Oh my god. Shit!" I panicked through a mouthful of grass.

The metal person frowned, and shook his head. The movement was accompanied by a light tinkling sound as some of the protruding metal from his head clinked together. There was a leonine grace about him, despite the metal countenance, that was both startling and reassuring. When he spoke, his voice was a deep, rumbling hum. "Please, calm down. You are temporarily offline. That will change if you-"

My brain blanked out. I imagine my thought process was something along the lines of:  _death + mysterious field = heaven + robot = ?._

"I'm in heaven with a Terminator." I bleated, scrambling back.

Under vastly different circumstances, the look on his face might have been funny. As it was, I was terrified. "Termin-? Never mind." He took a moment, and appeared to make a concentrated effort to put his question out of his mind. "I am a Prime, child. My brothers and sisters are close and watching, but cannot be here to greet you."

"There's going to be no.. terminating..?"

The Prime shook his head placatingly, but his expression was pure bemusement. "No. I understand it must be difficult for you to take in, what with what happened to you. But please allow me to explain." He paused for a long moment, until I realised he was waiting on a reaction. I jerked my head in a nod, and he continued. "It was not your time to join the Matrix. You were carrying a sparkling-" he hesitated at my confused look, and then said, "A baby."

Before my brain had fully caught up with his use of past tense, my hands had flown to my stomach. My very, very flat stomach. "I- my-? I don't - where's my baby?"

The Prime's eyes were made of metal and glass, but the sadness reflected in them was as clear as they would have been on a human face. "It was not your time. Nor was it your daughter's."

"It was a girl?" I whispered; at least, I tried to whisper. It came out strangled and hoarse, as I couldn't get a full breath of air into my lungs. It felt like I was dying all over again. ".. Is she here?"

"No. Her spark was not developed enough to make the journey to this place. But she is one with the Matrix. Do not fear for her." he said, his voice rumbling so deeply the vibrations could be felt in the ground.

"What is this place?" I whispered.

"The place of the Primes. Few ever make it here." he replied calmly. "Only those who receive second chances."

My head throbbed and my chest ached. I couldn't keep track of the conversation, it felt as though my mind was miles and miles away - back in an autumn morning, with crisp air and sunshine and my best friend and my baby girl safe inside me. Second chances. "Second chances," I mumbled, barely aware of what I was saying. "I don't understand-? You want to bring me back? Like Jesus?"

The robot's face contorted. It took a few confused seconds to recognise it as a smile. "Not quite. We cannot return you to your old body, as it was crushed."

I winced. "Ah."

"But we will set you up in a Cybertronian body." he continued as though I hadn't said anything, which I was more than used to.

"Cybertronian?"

"Yes. It is my race, from the planet Cybertron." the Prime explained patiently.

I blinked slowly/ "I've never heard of planet Cybertron."

"No, I would not expect you to have. Our planet is well out reach of any human technology. The being that destroyed your old body was a Cybertronian."

"Not a friendly race, then." my hand returned to my stomach, and I winced when I was met with empty space where my baby should have been.

"Not all Cybertronians wish to harm the human race. There was a war once, that ravished our planet. The Cybertronian race was split into two factions; Autobot, and Decepticon." the Prime said gravely.

"I'm guessing Decepticons are the bad guys." I said dryly.

"I am afraid so. They.. are not particularly fond of humans. Or Autobots." he sighed. "Well, enough on that. I will give you a data packet with the essentials you must know. The rest, you will be taught."

"Wait, what?" I blinked.

"You shall be in a Cybertronian body. The information you will need will be downloaded."

"So.. You're sending me to other Cybertronians." I said uncertainly.

"Yes."

"The, ah.. Good guys?"

A nod.

"I don't understand. There are hundreds of people dying everyday. There must have been other people who died at the park - there were children-" I choked on my own words then, horror stricken. It took a moment to regain my voice, but then I whispered "Why me?"

There was a long silence between us. In this place, wherever it was, there was no wind and no sound of insects or animals. The quiet was eerie, and I found myself wanting him to say something, anything, just to break the silence. At last, he did. "It has been… a long time, since I've seen my descendants happy. They are tearing each other apart - they have been for centuries - and they have lost sight of what it means to be fundamentally alive. They have destroyed their own planet, families, cultures, and for what? An endless war, where neither side can even remember what they're truly fighting for." he turned his ancient gaze on me, "That's where you come in. Sparklings are sacred in our culture, and you will be the perfect mix of worlds. Physically Cybertronian, mentally human. You will pull them out of this cycle."

My tiny brain had focused on part of his entire speech. "Hang on, I thought sparkling meant baby."

I could have  _sworn_  the metal bastard looked  _sheepish_. "It makes more sense to turn you into a sparkling rather than a fully grown adult Cybertronian. For one: there would not be enough trust if you arrived as an adult. If you are raised by them, you will trust them and they will trust you."

"The fuck-?"

"And also," the Prime hurriedly cut me off, "It's the opportunity to live like your sparkling may have, had she lived. Only in Cybertronian form." the Primes voice was so gentle, it was hard to believe he was made of metal.

My mouth shut so fast my teeth clicked harshly. That was a low blow. I clenched my jaw and tried to think of something else (anything else). "Why aren't you big, like the other robot."

The Prime frowned. "A robot refers to a non-sentient being; a mere drone. I am a mech. And I was as big as the other mech. But if I appeared in front of you in that size, I may have startled you slightly, hmmm?" he said wryly.

The tears pricking at the corners of my eyes were nearly impossible to ignore now, and I had to look away from his benevolent face before I completely lost my tenuous grip on myself. We sat in silence for several long moments, and it wasn't uncomfortable this time. The lack of interference had become comforting rather than disturbing.

"You were never happy anyway." he said suddenly.

"Excuse me?

"In your old life, you were never truly happy. Your partner was constantly inebriated, and

unfaithful. You knew this. You never knew true love with him. Your creators were one with the Matrix. The only reason you did not leave was because of your sparkling, and your best friend."

"Beth!" I gasped - I was horrified I had forgotten. "Is she alright?"

The Prime nodded. "She is unharmed. She will mourn you. She will blame herself for not pulling you away from the crowd before they trampled you. She will move on. She will meet a man. She will have four kids. She will name her first daughter Molly."

The weight of my emotion was physical, weighing on my chest and affecting my breathing. "Oh. She always promised she'd name her kid after me, but I just.. I didn't expect her to."

There was another silence, but this one was shorter than the ones previously. Before long, the Prime was glancing sideways at me and smiling. "You will know love in this new life. That I promise you. And now, it is time."

Panic seized my heart, and I shook my head. "I'm not ready to-"

The Prime laughed, heartily and joyously, and laid a warm metal hand on my head. "You will do fine, my friend. Now go."

He touched my forehead with his finger, and I felt myself fading and falling, until everything was black once more.


	2. Chapter 2

 

When I regained consciousness, it was to the sound of shouting. This was not entirely unusual (my relationship with Paul was turbulent at best, even during my pregnancy), so it wasn't enough to rouse me out of the odd haziness that was clouding my thoughts. It took a surprising amount of time for me to notice the flashing red signs in the corner of my vision, warning me that I was… low on fuel?

" _-unno where the frag it came from-!"_

" _It? She's a femme, are your fragging optics malfunctioning-"_

I became slowly aware that I was lying on a ground that was damp and uneven (forest, maybe), and that my body was stiff and largely unresponsive. I expected a flood of panic, and even waited for it, but it didn't come. My body was paralysed, but the only thing I felt was an annoyingly pervasive sense of calm.

" _-if it's a threat?_ I'm  _not gonna be the one to explain that-"_

The argument, I realised, was not in English. The words were hissed and whistled and clicked - it was the strangest, most alien thing I had ever heard. The sounds tumbled over each other, spilling out in a manner that made them sound garbled yet graceful. It was bizarre, and yet I understood every word that was being said.

" _-if it turns out it's a Decepticon spy?"_

" _She's a_ sparkling _-!"_

My memories were flooding back, and I was hit by a wave of  _baby-Beth-fear-death-Prime-loss-life_.

" _-could be recruiting younger nowadays-"_

" _You sound like Red Alert!"_

My vision came to life. Fuzzily, at first, and then so sharp that I would have recoiled if I had control of my body. I realised that what I had originally mistaken for stiffness was actually  _laxity_  - my joints weren't strong enough to lift my heavy limbs.

" _-ou're such a fragging waste of energon-"_

" _Since when is it my job to be the sensible one, you cross-wired piece of-"_

Apparently the argument had now devolved into name-calling. I tried to make a noise, but the only thing to come out of my mouth was a burst of static. That was enough to surprise me into silence, but not for long. I was finding my body ( _new body_ , some part of me kept reminding myself.  _You're not human anymore_ ) difficult to work, and my mouth and throat seemed to be thoroughly against making any sort of identifiable words. Irritated, I decided to just do the next best thing - I threw my head back and screeched.

It worked, in a sense. The arguing stopped (which counted as a massive win, if you asked me), and there were a few moments of gloriously peaceful silence before someone took me by the scruff of the neck and hauled me up. There seemed to be some kind of protrusion at the base of my neck, just above my spinal column (or whatever the robot equivalent of a spine is), because whoever had hauled me up did it as easily as picking up a handbag by its handle.  _A scruffbar,_ the rational, calm part of my mind supplied. I suspected that part of my mind was controlled by programming. The  _less_  calm version of my mind seemed to be more emotional. It also seemed to have control over my mouth, due to the unceasingly shrill screeches I was emitting.

"PUT IT DOWN!"

I was hastily deposited on the ground once more. I still hadn't gained full control over my body, and I ended up flopping right down onto my back. From this position, staring straight up at the sky, I finally caught sight of the owners of the voices I had been hearing since I woke up, and it took everything I had not to tense up and start screaming again. They were giant metal robots, just like the one that had killed me and my baby. The fear was an instinctive thing, and not something easily pushed aside.

I must have made some sort of noise (no doubt a whimper, or something equally as pathetic), because one of them bent down to get closer to my level. "Shh, it's okay!" he (?) cooed, waving thick metal fingers at me. "You're safe. Please don't screech again, I think you might actually cause severe damage to my audio receptors."

He was male, as far as I could tell, but I was far from a professional when it came to identifying alien genders. An amateur, really. Actually, totally fucking inexperienced. I tried to speak again, but it came out garbled and messed up. An error message popped up in my vision, some kind of warning about using an "undeveloped voice modulator for advanced speech".

The robot that had crouched down to me beamed, which was a curious sight to behold - I would never have guessed that metal could bend that way. "Awww, how cute. Sunny, how could you think she's a Decepticon?"

'Sunny' towered above me, at least twenty feet tall, silver face twisted up in a scowl. Distantly, I found myself marveling at the malleability of the metal they were made of - their expressions resembled humans so closely that it could almost be easy to forget they were alien. If it weren't, you know, for the height and the metal and all that crap. He was painted a beautiful, sunshine yellow colour that gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through the trees. Two fins protruded from the side of his head - they looked a bit odd, but overall he seemed like a perfectly built robot. I was sure he could kill me in an instant, if he wanted. "There aren't any sparklings left, but  _suddenly_  one just  _shows up_? And here, of all places."

The other robot ( _mech,_ I corrected myself, remembering what the Prime had said), turned his attention from me to scowl at Sunny. "Come on, man. You want to just leave her out here?"

As Sunny hesitated, I took a moment to look between them. They were… startlingly similar, but I couldn't put my finger on how. It was something in the faceplates, certainly, as both shared similar features. But there was also a feeling of distinct  _sameness_  that hung about them - I think maybe it could have been the energy I could feel pulsing from them. After a moment, Sunny let out a large gust of air from his vents. I realised it was a sigh as he said, "Fine. We'll bring her to Prime."

"Great!" the red one bounced to his feet, grinning. "She can ride with you, then." When Sunny started spluttering, he just spoke louder, "That way you can keep an eye on her, since you don't trust her and all!"

Sunny's engine snarled in a clear display of annoyance, but he reached down to catch me by the scruffbar anyway. I screeched and tried to propel myself backwards, but I just succeeded in rolling over in the mud. "The frag's wrong with her?"

"Stop swearing! She's a sparkling!" the red one hissed, "I don't think she likes being picked up by the scruffbar."

Sunny rolled his head back so he was looking at the sky. "Primus." he said melodramatically. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Oh, shut up. Transform, I'll put her into your alt mode. It'll be a tight fit, but it should work." I could only watch in awe as Sunny seemed to fold into himself - the process was so smooth and quick that I could barely process it, and then there was a yellow car sitting in the space that had been occupied by a giant robot only minutes before. The car was… familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on where I recognised it from. I didn't have a chance to think too hard about it before I was unceremoniously shoved into the back seat by the red one. My arms flailed a little, but there wasn't enough space for any real movement. I could feel the vibration of the seat beneath me as the engine roared to life, and I emitted a high pitched whine as we jolted into motion. Anxiety built until it was difficult to even think - I had to swallow down the panic crawling up my throat. The lack of control I had over the situation made me feel sick; I didn't know where I was being taken, and I didn't know who was taking me. The fact that I was more or less  _inside_  a giant robot was also… uncomfortable.

The drive was short, barely ten minutes long. From what little I could see through the car window from my position on my back, we had entered some kind of building. Grey walls and ceilings with no discernable markings blurred by, until the car skidded to an abrupt stop.

Barely minutes later, I was gently tugged out again by the red one, who cooed at me and rocked me gently in his arms. To my chagrin, it was actually quite relaxing, and it was only then that I realised I hadn't stopped whining. The lack of control over my vocal processor was embarrassing.

An electronic whirring sound hailed Sunny transforming back into his mech form, and he glanced towards one of the large doorways in the room. We were in an enormous room, obviously built to accommodate several Cybertronian-sized beings - even the doorways were large enough for someone taller than the two mechs in front of me to comfortably walk through. The sound of shouting was coming from behind the doorway Sunny had glanced to, albeit tinnily, like they were some distance away. "You commed Ratchet?" Sunny demanded, mildly disbelieving.

"I figured he'd know the most about sparklings!" Sideswipe said defensively. The shouting was getting louder as the owner of the voice got closer. "I commed Prime too, obviously."

Sunstreaker opened his mouth to speak, but the door behind him slid open and two more mechs stepped in. The one that was shouting (Ratchet, I assumed) was white and orange and was waving his arms emphatically mid-rant. The second one was far taller, blue and red, and his facial expression was enough to guess that he was well used to the other mech's rants. Another whine started to build up without my permission, and it attracted the attention of both the new mech's like a beacon. They looked as though they'd been struck with something hard over the backs of their heads.

"You- I mean- this wasn't a prank?" Ratchet managed to say after a drawn out pause.

"Nope!" The red one said, popping the 'p' sound obnoxiously. He had started to bounce me gently up and down when the whine had started up, but it wasn't doing much to quiet the sound. "Uh, not to be rude or anything, but could we figure out how to make her be quiet before we do anything else?"

"It hasn't shut up since we found it." Sunny muttered irritably.

Ratchet stepped closer and peered down at me. I couldn't help but think about how weird it was to see everything from the perspective of a baby and yet be completely aware of everything that was going on. The whole alien robot baby situation was probably a little weirder than the perspective thing, but I think I was still in a little bit of denial over that. "Hello," Ratchet chirped at me. It took a second for me to realise it was in that strange alien language again. I tried to chirp back, figuring if I could understand it then maybe I could speak it, but it came out garbled and weak and basically unintelligible. Even so, Ratchet's robotic eyes lit up as though he'd won the lottery. "Hand her to me."

The feeling of being passed over into someone else's arms twenty feet above the ground was unnerving at best, but Ratchet's grip was firm. The blue and red mech was peering curiously over Ratchet's shoulder, but when he spoke he addressed the other two. "Where did you find her?"

"The woods." the red one said promptly. "We had gone to race, but our sensors picked up an unfamiliar Cybertronian spark signal. We thought it might be a Decepticon, so we went to investigate."

"And she was just... there?"

"I don't trust it." Sunny announced - unnecessarily, in my opinion. The guy had been glaring at me since they'd found me.

Ratchet was emitting some sort of soothing hum from his chest area that rumbled through me like a mini invisible massage. I could feel myself relaxing until I almost felt like I could go right to sleep. "I'd like to examine her, Optimus."

"That goes without saying." the big one murmured.

"In the med bay, I meant."

"Now?" Optimus straightened, looking away from me and back at Ratchet. "Do you need me there or would it be better if I waited outside?"

Ratchet paused thoughtfully. "It may be better if you are there. Judging by the size of her, I'd guess that her data ports are not fully developed yet. I understand that you probably feel an information and memory file transfer is necessary, but it'll only be possible to do once while she's this young. I think it would be best if you were the one to do the transfer, don't you?"

"Very well," Optimus nodded his assent, "Lead the way, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello !! So this story was originally posted on ff.net, i'm just crossposting it here atm to see how that works out!


	3. Chapter 3

The med bay was a clean white open space, and everything was in its proper place. It was almost overwhelmingly tidy. I was deposited on a large metal berth while Ratchet went in search of whatever materials he needed. Optimus hovered beside the berth and began drumming his fingers against the metal surface. He seemed nervous. It was strange, the way they were all acting as if they'd never seen a baby before. Or a sparkling, or whatever.

"Alright." Ratchet announced, holding up a long cable. "Open your data transfer port." he ordered Optimus, before reaching out to me and poking around at the cables at my neck. It was reflex to flinch away, and a wailing cry accompanied the movement. Ratchet hushed and cooed as he flicked open something on my neck. The sensation of something being plugged into me was foreign and slightly unpleasant, like a needling itch.

Optimus allowed Ratchet to plug the other end into a port in his chest, then said, "Initiating data transfer now."

A wave of panic washed over me for a split second at the feeling of an alien presence pushing at the edge of my mind, but Optimus pushed calm at me. Memories began to cycle through my mind, and all I could do was lay there and watch as my whole life played out before my eyes. Linked as we were, I could feel the confusion emanating from Optimus within my head. He was watching the life of a human. And even I have to admit that it was a pretty sad life. After my lonely childhood, we had to watch my abysmal teenage years, and from there it was my early adult life. Shock and indignation radiated from Optimus as the happy memories of my initial relationship with Paul began to turn sour, and the violence that followed. Then came the realisation of my pregnancy and the hope it brought, and then that day with Beth in the park. I could feel his horror as he watched the Cybertronian with red eyes attack the park, especially as we watched that giant metal foot come swinging down. Finally came the memory of my encounter with the Prime.

 _Oh_ , Optimus' voice echoed in my head. His gaze dropped to my stomach.

"Optimus?"

Both of us startled, having forgotten Ratchet was there. Optimus recovered quickly, tugging the cable out of his port and straightening up. He cleared his vocaliser, "She's not a Decepticon."

Ratchet rolled his eyes (optics? robo-eyes?), "I hardly believed Sunstreaker's conspiracy theory about the Decepticons breeding sparkling spies in a cave, Optimus."

"I know." Optimus murmured, still staring at me. He clearly didn't know quite what to say. "It's not my place to tell her story."

Ratchet looked from me to Optimus, then back again. "Her story? How private could it be? She's a sparkling!"

"She is," Optimus sighed a great gust of air out of his ventilations, "You'll have to trust me, my old friend."

"I do trust you." Ratchet said immediately, then shook his head. "Fine. Can you tell me  _anything_?"

There was a long pause, during which Optimus and I maintained awkward eye contact. "Her name is Molly. She's a sparkling, and she deserves to be protected. Would you have me turn her away?"

Ratchet looked taken aback. "Of course not- when did I say anything like-?"

"I think it's best that I appoint you as her formal guardian."

Ratchet choked on his own words. "Ex-excuse me?"

"You're the most appropriate choice. Out of all of us, you undoubtedly have the most experience out of all of us with sparklings, and you have the most knowledge when it comes to nurturing and raising them."

"I- well, yes, I can't argue with you there, but I'm not sure I-"

"I don't want to increase your already considerable workload," Optimus said gently; his voice was so deep and soothing, I wondered absently if anyone ever had the heart to argue with him when he sounded like that. "So if you believe you won't be able to put the time and effort I know you'd like to put into raising her, I can appoint someone else to the task."

Ratchet's mouth opened and closed once or twice, before he said, "Like who?"

"There are a few options. I don't want you to feel pressured into accepting this responsibility."

"Like who, Optimus?"

"Well," Optimus hesitated, "Ah… Jazz, maybe."

"Jazz?" Ratchet looked aghast. "Aside from the obvious objection, Jazz's workload is equal to mine."

"Perhaps someone with a smaller workload then," Optimus nodded, then frowned, "Er. Wheelja-?"

"I'll do it." Ratchet interrupted instantly. "Primus. Wheeljack would accidentally blow her up."  _What?_ I glanced between the two of them, uncertain as to whether Ratchet was joking or not, but they both looked completely serious.  _Just what the hell have I gotten myself into?_

"I'm glad. I think you are the best bot for the job." Optimus beamed. When Ratchet moved to come towards me, however, Optimus stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. "You should know, my friend, that she may not act like you may expect."

Confused, Ratchet frowned up at him. "What do you mean?"

"She may have some unusual mannerisms, and she may not develop like you might expect an average sparkling to."

"I see." Ratchet looked at me uncertainly, before shrugging, "I've seen a lot of odd things in my time. I'm sure I can handle this just fine." Ignoring Optimus' proud smile, he moved towards me and picked me up. "Her spark is still young; I think it may be underdeveloped enough for me to forge a parental bond with her."

"I encourage you to do so. I'll leave you some privacy, then; I will go and inform everyone else of our situation." Optimus said before leaving the room.

Once he was gone, Ratchet paused for a long moment to look down at me. "Primus," he sighed, "I'm getting too old for this." A strange creaking noise was followed by the metal plates around his chest retracting. A pleasant blue glow emanated from somewhere within his chest cavity - which was unnerving, to say the least. I could feel my own chest components react, one of my much smaller plates sliding back with a squeal. Despite the alienness of these actions, the knowledge of what was happening was there in the back of my head. I understood the basics of sparkbonds on an instinctual level, the deepest form of connection for Cybertronians, and I understood that Ratchet was about to forge a parental one with me. When our sparks met, it felt freezing and unbearably hot at the same time. The sensation was intense and uncomfortable, and seemed to last forever and only a couple of seconds. When Ratchet pulled away, it felt like he had tugged away part of my centre and left a sliver of his own in its stead. The feeling of  _connection_  flared to life, and I emitted a surprised wail on reflex. Warmth and comfort fell over my mind like a blanket, Ratchet's way of calming me down. "Oh dear," he murmured, "You're very low on fuel."

 _Yes,_  my mind screamed,  _I'm hungry!_

 _Just wait_ hummed over the newly forged bond as he moved away to search for something - it came more as impressions and ideas than words, though it translated just fine. When Ratchet came back, his hands were busy attaching something that looked like a metal baby bottle top onto a metal container. "Molly, hmm," He said thoughtfully as he held the metal bottle teat to my mouth. "That's a human name, is it not?" My mouth was latched onto the bottle and I was ingesting the contents at an alarming rate, so I'm not sure how he expected me to respond. The liquid was oily and slick, with an aftertaste like oversweet gasoline; it wasn't the tastiest thing I'd ever tasted, but my tanks were so low it might well have been. Ratchet pulled the bottle away when I was done despite my slight whine of protest, then picked me up and nestled me into the crook of his arm.  _Time to meet the others,_ vibrated over the bond, along with hazy images of other Cybertronian figures.

It was…  _strange,_ to be carried like a small baby while having the mind of an adult. I kept feeling like I should resist, or order to be put down or something, but the same warning about my vocal processors being underdeveloped kept popping up on the HUD at the side of my vision. I gave up trying to talk pretty quickly; it didn't seem like there was anything important to say. I couldn't explain how I came to be here in this body (other than the Prime sending me), and Optimus knew the story as well as I did anyway. And it wasn't  _really_  like I wanted to be put down - it was pretty comfortable, and Ratchet was surprisingly gentle considering how gruff he appeared. We left the med bay and began to make our way down one of the long, grey corridors. The gentle swaying movement Ratchet made as he walked and the monotonous sight of the corridors must have sent me into some kind of a doze, because next thing I knew we came to a stop in front of a door. Ratchet stalled for a moment, fussing over me and wiping away a bit of energon on my chin before palming a switch on the wall. The door slid open, and every head in the room swivelled towards us.

Curious, I perked up and looked around at the gathering in the room. There were a lot of giant robots, and a handful of humans milling around at their feet. I could feel their stares on me like a physical weight, and shrank back into Ratchet's arms.

"This," Optimus' deep rumble broke the tense silence, "is the sparkling that was found on the perimeter of the base."

Ratchet's grip on me tightened just slightly as some of the bots began to step forward for a better look. A shiny silver mech sidled closer, peering down curiously at me. He gave me a little grin and waggled his fingers at me. "Hello, li'l lady."

My initial curiosity got the better of me and I grabbed at his fingers to try and get a better look - he humoured me and held his hand closer. His fingers were clawed and deadly sharp, but he took great care in ensuring the sharp points came nowhere near me. I tilted my head to look back at Ratchet, and pushed my question at him the same way we had pushed feelings. He understood what I wanted to know, and said, "This is Jazz." I recognised the name from earlier, when he and Optimus had been arguing over possible guardians for me. I regarded the mech in a new light now; I couldn't see his eyes (optics?) behind the deep blue visor he was wearing, but his grin was good-natured and cheerful.

"She's adorable." Jazz cooed to me, waggling his fingers again. I tried not to preen (and probably failed, because who doesn't love being called adorable?). "What's 'er name?"

"Her name is Molly." Ratchet answered, although he seemed to be addressing the rest of the as well.

"I don't trust her." announced a red and white mech from the crowd. "How do we know she's not a spy?"

As Optimus turned to speak patiently to him, Ratchet rolled his optics skyward (a gesture he must have picked up from human interaction), and muttered a quiet 'Primus'. He adjusted his hold on me, lifting me so his hand was supporting my tiny thighs and my little arms were wrapped around his neck. I had a much better view of the room and the people in it from this position, and I cooed happily. Ratchet's chest area hummed in response; I made a mental note that he clearly liked it when I was expressive with what I liked or disliked. Jazz leaned up towards me, and I realised for the first time that he was far smaller than Ratchet - he just about reached Ratchet's chest. "Tha's Red Alert, baby girl." he cooed, "He's a li'l paranoid."

"I am not paranoid!" Red Alert shouted indignantly, cutting whatever Optimus was saying off, "I just seem to be the only one who's painfully aware of all the things that could go catastrophically wrong with accepting the sparkling as one of us!" Despite myself, I let out a little giggle. It was high-pitched and babyish, and so far from my usual laugh that it made me giggle again. Ratchet huffed above me, Jazz cooed again, and Red Alert blinked at me before whirling around to face Optimus and jab a finger towards me. "See that! She's trying to use her cuteness to lure us into a false sense of security, and  _by Primus it's working."_

Ratchet huffed out another huge gust of air, but this one sounded considerably more annoyed than amused. "If we're finished accusing my sparkling of being a Decepticon," he announced sharply, his fingers curling around my thighs (his hand nearly engulfed me, which was slightly startling but also strangely comforting), "I'd like to bring her back to my quarters. She needs rest and more fuel - she's already quite small for my estimate of her age."

"Just a few more minutes, Ratchet," Optimus requested, "I believe it is important for everyone to get to meet Molly."

Ratchet grumbled a bit more, but didn't offer any real protests. A few more bots moved forwards, but no one spoke for several moments. Just as it was beginning to get a bit awkward, a pair of wide blue optics appeared right in front of my face. I was so startled that I jumped comically high despite Ratchet's firm hold on me, and emitted a sort of petrified squeak.

"Sorry!" the owner of the blue eyes blurted, rearing back. He looked young, although I'm far from an expert on being able to tell Cybertronian ages, with a grey and red paint job and a crimson chevron on his forehead. "I didn't mean to scare you! I should have come over slower, but I just got super excited! I'm pretty much the youngest Autobot - well, asides from Bee, but he's not really on base right now because he's looking after Sam! Oh right, you don't know who Sam is; he's basically Bumblebee's human charge, you'll probably meet them both very soon! What was I saying? Oh right, yeah, I've never really seen a sparkling before so this is really exciting! I'm Bluestreak!" he spoke so fast the words almost melted into one super long sentence.

I blinked, more surprised at his introduction than his sudden appearance. A few bots chuckled quietly, and Optimus smiled at Bluestreak, "I'm sure you'll both get on very well, Bluestreak."

Bluestreak beamed at me, although he seemed a little embarrassed at the chuckles he had garnered, because he didn't speak again. He bobbed out of the way and a new bot took his place. This mech was far larger and entirely black, and was imposing without even trying. "She  _is_ small." he grumbled.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Ironhide." Ratchet snipped back, holding me closer and rumbling.

"Hmph." was all Ironhide said, before moving out of the way as another bot stepped forward.

This one had funny fins at the side of his head, a little similar to Sunstreaker's except they flashed different colours. An odd metal facemask covered his mouth area, but when he spoke his voice was unmuffled and clear. "Hello, sparkling. I'm Wheeljack!" he glanced to Ratchet, "Can I hold her?"

" _No!"_  several of the bots shouted at once, moving to intervene. Wheeljack held his arms up in surrender, although he looked slightly affronted.

Ratchet shook his head and hoisted me higher into his arms, before glancing around at the handful of bots and few humans that hadn't made their introductions yet. "The rest of you can say hello another time. I don't want to have her completely overwhelmed." they nodded in understanding and backed off. Jazz gave me one last grin and a little wave before he bounced away too. When they were gone, Ratchet turned his attention back to me and softened slightly. "It's time for recharge now, little one."


	4. Chapter 4

That night, I almost cried myself to sleep. After Ratchet had laid me down on his berth and wandered off to do something, all my emotions seemed to catch up to me all at once. Within minutes, sobs were tearing through my body with such force that my body physically rocked. All I could think of was how much my life had changed in the past 24 hours; I had lost my husband, my best friend, my home, my baby, my  _life._  Not that I wasn't incredibly grateful for the second chance I had been granted, but I had lost everything all at once and so much had happened since that I hadn't even had a chance to process my feelings. I didn't expect tears to leak from my optics either, but thick fat droplets began to drip down my cheeks as I shook.

"Oh dear," Ratchet's voice rang out from behind, and his weight settled on the berth beside where I was curled up. He murmured softly to me as he picked me up, and then sighed heavily as he gazed at my face. Concern and curiosity pulsed through the sparkbond, even as he said, "What's wrong, hm?"

It was like his worry was the last straw, because the dam broke. A shrieking wail broke out of me, and I curled towards him desperately. I had obviously startled him, but his hands curled around me protectively and held me closer. Wanting to offer at least some kind of explanation for why I was caterwauling uncontrollably, I pushed my main emotions towards him; grief, terror, loneliness. How was I going to fit in amongst the bots that had taken me in? I was an anomaly - even though I was part of their race now, I'd never really be one of them.

I could feel his confusion, but Ratchet was still nothing but soothing. He sent warm pulses of comfort, cooing intermittently, until my sobs had calmed into the odd mechanical hiccup. Once I had quietened a little, he began sending little bundles of acceptance and warmth to me. "It's going to be just fine," he murmured. Held as I was to his chest, I could feel the low thrumming of life from his spark within. It was soothing, and I relaxed further as the rumbling picked up in intensity, "Everyone is going to do their utmost to look after you. And don't mind Red Alert, he's a bit of a dolt." I gave a choked up little giggle, and Ratchet's face broke into a relieved little smile at the sound of it. I felt a little guilty at having caused him to worry - although at the same time, the fact that he worried at all made my chest feel warm.

Heaving a sigh out of his air vents in a warm gust, Ratchet lay back on the berth and tucked me into the nook between his arm and chest. It was warm and comfortable, and the knot of grief in my throat was eased by the feeling of calm and companionship vibrating down the bond. In my new position, I was asleep in minutes.

* * *

The next day, I was embarrassed by my behaviour. Just because I was in the body of a baby robot, didn't mean I had to  _act_ like one. Thankfully, Ratchet said nothing when he scooped me up and carried me back to the big room we had met all the bots in the day before. It was empty, so he took the opportunity to whip out the makeshift baby bottle he had fed me with before. There was no warnings about low fuel levels today, but I accepted the funny pink fluid anyways. I was halfway through the bottle when the doors to the room slid open, and the two bots that had found me in the wood strolled in, bickering. Above me, Ratchet sighed and pulled the bottle away from my mouth. A brief sense of  _irritation, nuisances, twins_ flashed through the bond, and I glanced at the red and yellow mechs and wondered absently how robots could be twins.

The red one, Sideswipe, I remembered, abandoned the good-natured ribbing of his brother and focused on Ratchet, grinning with bright optics. "Hey, Ratchet the Hatchet!"

"Leave." Ratchet said bluntly, pointedly not looking up.

However, Sideswipe's optics had caught on me and he came closer. "She's pretty small, huh? Is that normal?"

Sunstreaker peered over his brother's shoulder, his expression a torn mixture of curiosity and scorn. "She's puny."

"She is slightly underdeveloped," Ratchet confessed, shifting his grip on me so that my bottom was sitting in his hand, his other hand cupping around my stomach area. "It's difficult to tell if her size is due to her lack of proper nourishment, or if she''s just a small sparkling."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Sideswipe nodded along, clearly not listening, "Hey, can I hold her?"

Ratchet actually looked affronted. "Of course not."

"What? Why not?"

"I don't trust you not to drop her."

"I found her!" Sideswipe pouted, "C'mon, I've the steadiest hands in the business!"

"He's just going to keep pestering until you say yes." Sunstreaker said irritably, folding his arms and scowling.

Ratchet's optics dimmed, and I could feel his chest expand as he took a deep intake of air. I got the distinct impression he was praying for patience. "If you drop her, I will weld you both to Ironhide's ceiling and let him use you as punching bags."

Sideswipe's reaching hands hesitated for half a second, but then he grinned cheerfully, "I won't drop her!". His grin widened even further when Ratchet carefully deposited me in his arms. He cooed at me, his voice vibrating delightedly. Unsure how to react to this turn of events, I glanced over at Ratchet. His optics were narrowed, and he was watching Sideswipe's every move like a hawk. Oblivious, Sideswipe kept rocking me back and forth. "Look, Sunny! Isn't she cute!"

"Stop calling me that," Sunstreaker muttered, before shrugging. "She's alright." That statement gained a look of pure offence from Ratchet, but I didn't mind too much - Sideswipe's steady rocking motions were soothing enough to send me into a semi-doze. I must have been more tired than I had originally thought from my night of unsettled sleep, because when I next onlined my optics and HUD, I saw that I had been offline for close to three hours. Startled, I tried to sit up only to nearly overbalance over the edge of Sideswipe's arm. Cursing colourfully, he managed to catch me just before I toppled to the floor.

" _Sidesw-_ "

"It wasn't my fault!" Sideswipe yelled over Ratchet's furious exclamation, "She just moved really suddenly!"

Too late, I realised we were no longer alone in the big room - a metal balcony sort of thing stretched along the wall, and there was a collection of humans standing and watching us. The balcony was raised to Sideswipe's chest level, so it was almost uncomfortably easy for them to stare at me. Their attention was diverted from me to Ratchet as he marched over and extracted me from Sideswipe's arms, before tucking me into his own chest. "She could have been hurt!"

"But she  _wasn't-!_ "

I gurgled uncomfortably as Ratchet raised his fist, and he froze mid-motion to glance down at me then back at our human audience. They hadn't so much as blinked (although one dark-skinned man had rolled his eyes in exasperation), so I assumed this was a common enough occurrence. "If I wasn't holding a sparkling, I'd-"

A harsh metallic grinding cut Ratchet off mid-threat, and I craned my head around to see Optimus standing next to the balcony of humans. He was frowning, and I realised that the grinding sound had been his attempt at emulating a cough. "Perhaps we could get back to the matter at hand?"

Chastened, both Sideswipe and Ratchet stepped back and fell quiet. Ratchet began fussing softly over me, checking for non-existent scuffs and chattering quietly. I trilled back, and earned a pleased smile in response. When I turned my attention to what Optimus and the humans were discussing, however, it became clear that the matter at hand was  _me_.

"-didn't agree to this." an officious looking man in a suit was saying, his face screwed up in distaste. "When we allowed you to stay on our planet, you said nothing about  _breeding_."

"I understand that, Director. However, you must understand that our discovery of this sparkling was without precedent. We have not seen nor heard of a sparkling in many thousands of years; you must understand our own surprise at the discovery."

" _You_  must understand the security risk that this thing poses to the United States and the world! If your kind can  _breed_ , then how long will it be until your population begins to grow enough that our species cannot sustainably co-habitate the planet? Will you leave peacefully, or will you colonise?"

Ratchet's fingers twitched around my stomach and Sideswipe emitted a soft growl of irritation, but Optimus appeared unmoved by the human's harsh tone. "Director Galloway, I assure you that your fears are unfounded. Molly may be the first sparkling seen in a long time, but it is my understanding that her existence is an anomaly. We have no intention of colonising your planet - we only wish to protect it and prevent the destruction wreaked on Cybertron by the Decepticons from befalling your planet as well. I have reiterated this many times."

A man in a white coat stepped forward, gaze intent upon me. He hardly glanced at Optimus, even as he addressed him. "If she is an anomaly, as you say, then we would be very interested in running some.. tests. The concept of metal beings  _growing_ -"

" _No."_  Ratchet snarled, taking a step back and hiking me up protectively. His engine was roaring its displeasure, and some of the humans on the catwalk took a few nervous steps backwards.

The man remained unfazed. "We are still seeking to understand your kind. Running some experiments on a child of your species may assist in our technological advances-"

Optimus held up a hand in an attempt to placate Ratchet as he took another step back, hissing. "No, I will not be allowing that. Ratchet, I think it may be best if you and Sideswipe return to the recreation room."

I could feel Ratchet's whole-hearted agreement with Optimus' decision even as he whirled around and marched out of the room. The man began to speak again, but his voice was drowned out by Sideswipe's heavy footsteps as he actively put in effort to catch up with us. Once we were out in the hallway and the door had slid closed behind us, Ratchet let out a harsh, angry ventilation. "How dare they! What gives them the  _right_  to think that they could- that they might try to-  _experiment_  on  _my_ sparkling?"

"Um." Sideswipe's optics shuttered and unshuttered in a parody of a blink, clearly uncertain as to whether or not Ratchet actually expected an answer.

" _My_  little girl!"

Sideswipe glanced at me nervously, as though hoping I could give him some sort of hint as to how to respond. I shrugged as best as I could with my tiny shoulders, and he turned back to Ratchet. "Yes." he said decisively.

Apparently taking Sideswipe's response as validation for his argument, Ratchet continued at a louder volume. "Sharing portions of our technology and weapons isn't enough for them anymore? Now they want to take pieces of  _infants?_ " He set off down the hall at a swift pace, Sideswipe stumbling to keep up. "The unbelievable  _nerve_ of them-!"

"Unbelievable." Sideswipe parroted.

Ratchet continued in that vein until we reached the big double doors of the rec room, which slid open to reveal a number of bots lounging within. They all glanced up, startled, as Ratchet stormed in, still ranting. There were a few faces I recognised from the day before, but some were unfamiliar. Sunstreaker was sprawled alone on one of the Cybertronian-sized couches, and raised an optic ridge as Ratchet grumbled and snarled to himself while seating himself in an armchair. He arranged me carefully on his knee, his gentle hands a contrast to his irate aura.

Across the room, Jazz shared a significant glance with Ironhide before casually sauntering over. "Hey mech, what's got yer panties all in a bunch?"

Suprisingly, Ratchet didn't take the opportunity to launch into another tirade. Instead, he remained quiet, choosing to cradle me close to his chest. The proximity to his spark was soothing, and I found myself drifting into a doze despite my best efforts. It was Sideswipe who ultimately answered Jazz's question after it became clear that Ratchet had no intention to speak up. "Just came from Prime's meeting with the humans. One of their scientists asked if they could run some experiments on her."

Jazz's mouth went tight, but he nodded in understanding. "I see." he said calmly, coming over and perching on the arm of the chair Ratchet had commandeered so he could peer into my face. "Issa good job she has the whole lot o' us to protect her then, ain't it?"

Ratchet's EM field relaxed marginally, and he sat back in the chair. "I suppose so, yes." he said gruffly, stroking at the top of my spine.

I clenched my hands around an armor plate in one of his arms, unsure how to even begin to respond. All I could do was push gratitude down the bond and hope he would understand the unspoken apology for being a burden.

Ratchet paused, and then frowned lightly at me. Instead of communicating his feelings in return through the bond, he murmured, "You have absolutely nothing to apologise for, little one. You are not being any sort of burden at all; we would never allow them to experiment on you."

Sideswipe glanced between the two of us, startled, and Jazz's expression softened completely as he leaned in even further. "Ah, li'l lady, you're already part o' the family, ay?" he tickled me under the chin, enticing a tiny little giggle out of my vocaliser.

Ratchet began to push feelings of comfort and safety down the bond, and I relaxed into his chest and offlined my optics. I dozed to the sounds of Jazz laughing at a joke from Sideswipe and the steady thrumming of Ratchet's spark, and fell asleep to the realisation that I hadn't felt as safe and  _wanted_  as I did in that minute in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd love to hear comments about what you guys think!


	5. Chapter 5

Wheeljack, I had decided, was a maniac. Granted, none of the bots I had met so far could be confidently described as sane but Wheeljack thus far was officially the strangest out of all of them, and it could be reduced to one basic reason; the mech had  _no_  self-preservation instinct. Nada. No voice at the back of his head telling him ' _maybe this is a bad idea'_  or ' _that's very dangerous'_ or ' _that could be potentially fatal'_. For that reason, he was one of the mechs I saw most frequently.

Ratchet had taken to bringing me everywhere with him, which mainly comprised of our quarters and the medical bay while he was working. It was sort of sweet, as I could feel his reluctance to leave me out of his sight through our bond, but also led to long hours of me lying in a makeshift playpen watching Ratchet nag and rant and shout at people over their health and wellbeing - bots and humans alike. Unable to stand or talk, I was reduced to being a spectator as Ratchet fixed up dents, software malfunctions, and various injuries. There was rarely anything too serious, with the obvious exception being Wheeljack. From what I had figured out so far, he was an inventor slash warrior, which evidently did not make for a good combination. His inventions did seem to work, and he had upgraded and fixed a fair amount of Ratchet's medical equipment, but his projects seemed to have the unfortunate side-effect of being prone to spontaneous combustion.

On this particular day, Wheeljack had poked his head into the medbay with a sheepishly guilty grin on his face. Upon noticing him, Ratchet's eyes narrowed and he sat up straight from where he had been playfully poking me. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," Wheeljack said breezily. His innocent tone was tarnished somewhat by the scorch marks on his facial plates. "I was just wondering if you were free to do some light repairs?"

"Primus," Ratchet's expression darkened, "Show me."

The door slid open fully as Wheeljack edged into the room, revealing his blackened paint and melted shoulder strut. He was holding his left arm in his right hand. "It's probably not as bad as it looks."

" _Wheeljack!_ " Ratchet thundered, straightening to his full height. He wasn't a particularly tall mech, especially not in comparison to Optimus Prime, but even so the fury in his stance had Wheeljack cowering. "Sit down on that berth and  _don't move!"_

Wheeljack slunk over to the medical berth and sat down like a scolded child. He began twiddling his thumbs, which would have looked like a ridiculous action on a giant alien mechanism even if both of his arms were still attached to his frame. "Sorry Ratch, I really thought I was close to a breakthrough."

From where I was sitting in my little playpen area, I could see Ratchet offline his optics and make a conscious effort to calm down. After a moment, he heaved a loud ventilation and turned to survey the damage. "One day, you're going to blow yourself up and I'm not going to be around to fix you."

Wheeljack gave a sheepish smile, even as he visibly fought a grimace of pain as Ratchet started poking around at the exposed wires in his damaged shoulder strut. "Hopefully not anytime soon, huh?"

Ratchet scowled and purposely tweaked an exposed wire, earning a particularly loud yelp from the injured scientist. "Sooner than I would like if you continue raising my stress levels like this."

"Sorry, Ratch." Wheeljack repeated, looking up at him earnestly from his place on the berth. "I really don't mean to be a nuisance like this. I'm just… I'm really desperate for a breakthrough right now." his voice dropped and his optics dimmed, and he gazed off to the side. "I just want to help."

I could feel guilt radiate from Ratchet's end of the bond, sharp and hot, and watched as he lowered his tools and turned to face Wheeljack directly. "I know that. We all know that, Wheeljack." he began, voice low. "I just hate to see you get hurt. I hate to see any of you get hurt. I just worry about everyone, and I'm aware that I express it quite harshly."

Wheeljack smiled at him, and patted his shoulder with his good arm. "Hey, you know we all appreciate you, right? Most of us would be nothin' but piles of scrap metal if we didn't have you around to fix us right up. I think you're entitled to be a little annoyed if we ruin all your good work, right?"

Ratchet snorted, refocusing on Wheeljack's shoulder. "That's one way of looking at it."

I shifted in my playpen, bored and slightly hungry. The movement caught Wheeljack's eye, and he turned to focus on me. "Hey sparkling! How are you today?"

"Aaaaaah." I informed him; my vocaliser was still too underdeveloped to produce more than small words and noise fragments, but Wheeljack usually delighted at any form of communication I could offer him.

As expected, his whole face lit up. "Glad to hear it!"

I pushed myself to my feet and managed to teeter-totter my way over to the thin metal railing of the enclosure. It was shoulder-high on me, so I slung my arms over the top and grinned up at Wheeljack. "Yah."

Wheeljack cooed in delight, barely even noticing Ratchet as he welded part of his arm back together. "Look at you, walking like a professional!"

Ratchet threw his optics towards the ceiling, but said nothing; it looked like the restraint took a lot of effort. After a moment of welding, he sat back and surveyed his work. "That's the best I'm going to be able to do at the moment, Jack. Most of the damage is cosmetic, so you'll just have to walk around looking like a pile of scrap metal until some of those healing nanites kick in, and then we can add a coat of paint."

"Sounds good, Ratch." Wheeljack rotated his newly repaired shoulder, wincing slightly. "Thank you."

"Hmm." Ratchet hummed absently, moving to pick me up. "Just mind you don't strain it." he called after Wheeljack as he headed for the door, and sighed heavily when Wheeljack just waved him off. "Idiot." he murmured, but his voice lacked any kind of bite. He smiled slightly as he glanced down at and hoisted me onto his hip. "How do you feel about having our energon in the rec room, hm?" My face split into a grin and I waved my fists enthusiastically; after spending so much time cooped up in the medical bay or our quarters, any change of scenery could only be welcome. Ratchet smiled back at me, and hummed again as he made his way out of the med bay with me in tow.

The rec room was always a site of bustling activity for humans and Cybertronians alike; it was a pretty unique space in that it allowed both species to interact comfortably outside of a military setting. Most of the time people kept their interactions to their own species, but there was a fair amount of intermingling as well. When Ratchet and I walked in, we spotted Optimus almost immediately; his size and colour scheme ensured that he would never be a subtle presence, even ensconced as he was in a corner with a datapad.

He glanced up as we approached, and the serious frown that had creased his face as he read melted into a welcoming, albeit tired, smile. "Ratchet. Please, sit with me."

"Sure. I was just going to grab a ration." Ratchet motioned over his shoulder at one of the energon dispensers along the wall. "Would you mind holding Molly for just a moment?"

Optimus looked surprised for a moment, before putting down his datapad and holding out his hands patiently. Upon being deposited into his hold, I blinked up at him uncertainly. Optimus blinked uncertainly back. "Hello." he said after a moment, once Ratchet had moved away.

"Eh'oh." I attempted to parrot his greeting back, but found myself unable to form the hard 'L' sound.

Despite my failed attempt to actually talk, Optimus smiled warmly. His uncertainty seemed to fade somewhat, and even his grip on me relaxed slightly. "How are you settling into the base, Molly?" he asked, before hurrying to add, "I understand that you have the vocal processors of a sparkling and cannot respond in the way that you probably wish to. I just want to let you know that I understand that you comprehend the world in the same way an adult of your species would. Original species." he corrected himself.

"Yah," was all I could say in response. I gave him a sheepish smile, hoping my feelings came across like I meant them to. It was frustrating not being able to communicate like I was used to doing, but everyone was so kind and loving to me that it seemed like the problem wasn't as bad as it could be. I could communicate my feelings to Ratchet through our bond, and even if he didn't always understand, he tried his best to accommodate me in every way possible.

Optimus nodded, as though all this was clear to him. "I'm happy to see that you do seem to be getting on well with Ratchet. I believe your presence is good for him. The war has been harsh on us all." he murmured, glancing over to where Ratchet had gotten cornered by a soldier seeking some sort of medical advice. I looked up at Optimus curiously; the war weighed on him far more heavily than anyone else, that was for sure. At times, it looked as though he was sure to be dragged down by the weight of the responsibilities resting upon his shoulders. I couldn't imagine how it would feel to be in charge of your entire species' future, but Optimus bore the burden admirably; sometimes, however, it was possible to see him withdrawn and quiet, like now. After a moment, he looked back and me and gave me a half-smile. "No need to look so concerned, sparkling. We will persevere, hm?"

"Having a good conversation?" Ratchet asked as he arrived with his cube of energon, smirking at Optimus. His spinal column cracked as he lowered himself into one of the giant chairs that had been constructed in the rec room for the Cybertronians on base. He heaved a deep ventilation as he leaned back and took a deep drink of his energon.

"She's a wonderful conversationalist," Optimus said, his face relaxing into a smile, "almost as good as you, Ratchet."

I laughed, the noise coming out as a babyish peal. Ratchet's bark of laughter was louder and harsher, and Optimus just grinned. "Not quite yet, but soon she will be, I'm sure." Ratchet chuckled, winking at me.

"How is she healthwise?" Optimus asked, his indulgent smile fading slightly.

Ratchet sighed, gazing into his energon. "She is advancing and maturing rapidly, at a faster pace than I could ever expect, yet I can't pin down any physiological anomaly that would cause this. It concerns me."

Optimus hummed and looked down at where I was resting comfortably in the crook of his arm. "I thought that perhaps something like this would happen," he murmured absently.

"What do you mean?" Ratchet asked sharply, leaning forward with a frown.

"I don't think her growth is anything to worry about," Optimus neatly sidestepped the question, before shrugging a shoulder. "Then again, I'm not a medical professional."

"I'll be keeping an eye on it, in any case." Ratchet said, although he gave Optimus another vaguely suspicious look. "Are you sure you have nothing to tell me?"

"We agreed it was not my story to tell." Optimus reminded him mildly, although anyone who knew him would be able to recognise the quiet reprimand.

Sighing, Ratchet leaned back in his chair and finished off his energon. "I suppose we'll have to wait until she's older, hm?" he shot me a tired smile and pushed feelings of affection through the bond. "You must have lots have secrets to have Optimus so defensive of your origins, sparklet."

"It won't be a mystery forever, old friend." Optimus told him even as I pushed feelings of vague apology through the bond. I received feelings of understanding and reluctant acceptance in response, as well as a small nod of acknowledgement.

"Yes, well." Ratchet subspaced his empty cube, and rolled his shoulders stiffly. "In any case, we should be getting back to the medbay now. I don't like to be away from work for too long."

"You work too hard, Ratchet." Optimus told him even as he handed me back with a smile.

"Someone has to." Ratchet glared pointedly over at where a red lump that looked suspiciously like Sideswipe was napping on one of the Cybertronian-sized couches. "I'll see you later, Prime."

I sighed as I was hauled back over Ratchet's shoulder to return to the medbay; it was nice to have a change of scenery every once in a while, and the medbay was beginning to become almost painfully familiar. I could only hope that the rapid growth Ratchet was so concerned about would work in my favour, and that I might soon be able to have some sort of independence in my movements. There was only so much of the medbay one could take, really.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Six months of the same unchanging scenery of the medbay was slowly driving me crazy. I quickly came to understand that Ratchet was the busiest person in the entire base, second only to Optimus. Not only did he have his hands full of ailments and injuries from the Autobots on base, but he also assisted many of the human soldiers who came to see him with their own injuries as a sign of goodwill.

Ratchet was a busy mech, which meant that he was rarely anywhere but the medbay and our quarters. As a result,  _I_  was rarely anywhere but the medbay and our quarters. Which was fine; Ratchet was an incredible caretaker, and I could see better than anyone just how much he cared about all his peers. But still; it was pretty monotonous.

When Bluestreak poked his head into the medbay one Tuesday afternoon, I barely took notice. I was too busy marching myself in a steady circle around one of the mech-sized medical berths, practicing my walking. My mobility had improved drastically, a fact I was innumerably pleased with. It wasn't  _technically_  walking (truth be told, it was more of a waddle) but progress was progress, and I could tell Ratchet was proud. However, sometimes I caught him looking at me when he thought I wouldn't see, and the concern shining his his eyes was unmistakable.

"Bluestreak," Ratchet greeted, setting down a patient file and peering at him. "I didn't receive a comm saying you were coming."

"I didn't send one!" Bluestreak said, smiling sheepishly. "There's nothing wrong with me, don't worry! I was actually wondering if Molly wanted to spend the afternoon with me? I wasn't gonna do anything big, just wander around the base and maybe go for a little drive! But," his smile faltered and his tone became unsure, "If that's not okay, that's fine! Maybe she doesn't want to. I didn't really consider that. I just thought it might be nice for her to see outside!"

I could feel my eyes (optics? Robo-eyes? I was still unsure on the proper terms for my mecha anatomy) widen with every word Bluestreak spoke. I spun around on my unsteady legs, wobbled for a brief moment, and then looked at Ratchet imploringly.

"I don't know…" Ratchet began hesitantly.

 _Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease_ , I pushed through the bond in an emphatic mixture of mental impressions and emotional echoes. Even as I widened my eyes further, I wondered if a puppy dog expression would work properly with a face made of metal.

Apparently, it did. Ratchet held out for almost twenty three seconds before gesturing unnecessarily with the file in his hands. "Fine. Fine! Stop looking at me like that!" he turned to Bluestreak then with a formidable scowl. "Do not take your eyes off her, do you hear me? Stay out of trouble, don't take any risks, and don't go far. If she comes back with so much as a scratch, there will be  _consequences."_ Bluestreak, to his credit, nodded patiently and earnestly along with everything Ratchet said. That seemed to put my caregiver at ease, because he backed off then and crouched down in front of me. "You behave, starshine. Bluestreak is in charge when you're with him, okay?"

I nodded, trying not to look too impatient. It mustn't have worked, because Ratchet rolled his eyes before patting me on the head and returning to his desk. I quickly toddled over to Bluestreak, my face lit up with a grin. He shot me a matching smile and added a thumbs up, and scooped me up into his arms when I got close enough.

We started down the hall, but Bluestreak waited for the medbay door to slide shut before he spoke to me. "Sorry for showing up out of nowhere, Molly! But Jazz was just saying the other day about how we don't see you that often, and I guess that makes sense because I know that Ratchet is protective and he wants to keep you safe so he keeps you with him and he's always busy so I guess you're always busy too-"

I shifted in his grip to get comfortable; I was perched on his forearm, with my hands clasped tightly around the seam of his bumper at the top of his chest. The base was busy; humans sped by on what looked like military golf carts, and Bluestreak was being obviously very careful about where he placed his feet as he walked. I was getting a fair share of stares; despite my presence at the base for just over half a year now, being holed up with Ratchet so often meant that many of these humans would never have laid eyes upon me. I was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that maybe that was why so many humans were turning up in Ratchet's medbay instead of going to their own human medics.

"-and since the base is on an island, I thought we could take a drive to the beach to see the scenery! Would you like that? I'd bet you've never seen a beach before! Or the sea! The sea on Earth is just beautiful, we have nothing like it on Cybertron-"

The base was on an island? That was news to me. I cooed at Bluestreak, who brightened up at the sound of approval. The thought freaked me out a little; I had been there all that time and hadn't realised I was sitting in the middle of the ocean. For the first time in a long while, it occurred to me that I really didn't know just where exactly I was. The thought was a daunting one.

I had curled into Bluestreak in an attempt to avoid the stares from the humans from down below, and as a result I didn't realise when we had emerged from the base into the outside until I felt the sudden warmth of the sun on my back. I turned outwards again quickly, ignoring Bluestreak's hand as it frantically flew to my stomach to keep me from toppling out of his arms. There wasn't much to see, truthfully. It was a military base, after all. A long strip of road stretched way out into the distance, curving around a large thicket of evergreen trees. That must have been the woods that the twins had found me in.

"This is Diego Garcia!" Bluestreak gestured grandly at the barren scenery.

"Ah." I beamed, turning my face into the sun. It was hot out, and the sky was beautifully blue. It felt like paradise.

Bluestreak allowed me a moment to bask in the warmth of the natural air (a beautiful contrast to the regulated air conditioning inside), before he set me down on the ground and transformed into his alt mode. The transformation was impressive to watch, even after so many times witnessing it. "In you get!" he chirped.

After I crawled in, the drive to the beach was short. It really was a small island. Climbing out of Bluestreak took a little more effort than crawling in had (I had grown quite a lot, really), but once my feet touched the ground I turned towards the beach we had arrived at. It was beautiful. Truly stunning. I had never seen the ocean, in either of my lifetimes. I hadn't known that such a shade of blue could exist naturally. While Bluestreak was in mid-transformation, I took off toward the water.

Soft golden sand sprayed into the air as I waddled swiftly to the sea. I heard an alarmed exclamation from behind me before the tell-tale heavy thuds of large footsteps as Bluestreak hurried after me. "Molly, wait!"

"Sea!" I warbled, struggling to go as fast as I could over the uneven surface of the beach.

"You'll rust!" Bluestreak wailed. "Ratchet will kill me!"

My stubby legs were powered by nothing but determination and spite, and within seconds I was toppling headfirst into the water. A small wave crested over the top of my head, and my vocaliser let out a staticky shriek of delight. The water was cool, and felt amazing against my sun-heated metal plating. I stuck my hand out towards Bluestreak and made grabby motions, trying to convince him to join me.

He hesitated, visibly torn. It took another moment before he vented a heavy blast of air and took a hesitant step into the water. The waves lapped around us as he crouched down so he could sit next to me. "This is pretty nice," he confessed, although his gaze was darting rapidly at the water all around us. "Can I tell you something? I think you probably wouldn't tell anyone if I do, because it's kind of embarrassing and I can just imagine Sideswipe and Sunstreaker trying to play some awful prank on me if they found out!"

Wondering if Bluestreak realised that he was confiding in a literal baby, I shrugged and blinked my eyes up at him. My vocal processors had improved quite a bit in the past few months, but I was still only able to say a few words at a time. I wasn't sure who he was worried I might spill to.

"Well," he cast another shifty look at the waves wobbling around his legs, "Major Epps commissioned one of those screens that humans use for entertainment, but this one is really big so that us Cybertronians can watch things on it! It hasn't arrived yet, but Major Lennox has been insisting that we all watch this thing called  _Planet Earth_ , because it's important that we're educated on life on this planet! Because we're still waiting on the big screens, I've been watching it on one of the little human ones-"

I splashed absently in the water, keeping half my attention on Bluestreak's rambling and half my attention on the horizon. When I turned my head to look back at him, I caught a flash of colour on the beach just behind us. Red and yellow.

"-but anyway, what I realised when I was watching one of these documentaries was that there are really scary things in the ocean!" Bluestreak continued, oblivious to the new presence just behind us. "So basically what I mean is, I'm pretty scared of fish-"

I wasn't even given enough time to fully process what he had said before Sideswipe was dropping down behind us, cackling with laughter. "Afraid of fish!"

Poor Bluestreak jerked in fright, displacing water and splashing me heavily. He yelped, both in fright and in dismay at having soaked me. "What are you doing here!" he yelled, pulling me up out of the water to settle against his legs.

"We decided to go for a nice little walk, to stretch our legs." Sideswipe grinned, shaking droplets of seawater off himself. "So, tell me more about the fish."

Bluestreak looked torn between crying and swearing at him. "You're awful!". I slipped off his lap and back into the water while he was distracted, figuring this was my best chance to do a little bit of ocean exploring. Sideswipe turned and called for Sunstreaker to enter the water, and while he was being rebuffed I turned and dived under.

It had been a long time since I swam, but I used to be pretty good at it. Nothing too special, but the feeling of being suspended in water was one thing that was always guaranteed to relax me. I wasn't sure how this Cybertronian body would compare, but I guess once you learn to swim it stays ingrained in you; while heavier, I was still able to cut through the water with relative ease. It was even better, in some ways, than swimming as a human; I had no ears to get clogged with water, and I could keep my eyes wide open and see everything around me without the slightest blur. In fact, I found myself more mobile in water than I was walking on land. My weak little toddler legs didn't have to struggle to keep my whole body upright, as the water was doing that for me. I was moving easily for the first time since I had been deposited into this body.

Swimming in pools didn't even compare to swimming in the ocean. The sand on the ocean floor shone silvery, and the water around me seemed to shimmer with the sunlight from above. Not too far away, a little red fish darted through a little crop of seaweed. I hoped it wouldn't come too close to Bluestreak, and then kicked my feet and returned to the surface of the water. As air began to cycle through my vents again, I turned and was greeted with the sight of Bluestreak losing his mind.

"Ratchet is going to take me apart and sell me as scrap metal!" he was bleating, splashing through the water. "I'm so dead! I can't believe I lost his daughter in the ocean, oh Primus. You two could at least  _help me!"_

"What if a fish got her?" Sideswipe asked, just to be a dick.

Bluestreak moaned, low and horrified. "Don't joke about that. Help me find her! Where-"

"Here!" I called, kicking my legs and splashing water towards him. I couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of me at the sight of Bluestreak's almost comical relief; he looked as though he were about to fall over.

Sideswipe cackled, before wading over and hoisting me up on his hip. "You escaped the clutches of those evil slimy fish!" he tickled me. I giggled, even as Bluestreak scowled fiercely - it was reminiscent of a particularly ferocious pomeranian.

"I should get her back to base now." Bluestreak said primly, clearly annoyed about the teasing.

"Sure," Sideswipe said absently, looking me over as I twisted in his arms to avoid the tickles.

Sunstreaker voiced what his twin appeared to be thinking, "She's grown."

 _That's what babies do,_  I thought with a scowl. I for one was pleased with my progress.

"Ratchet said she's growing at a rapid rate." Bluestreak's voice had lost its edge of annoyance. It was calm now; too calm. I twisted in Sideswipe's arms so I could squint at him; both the twins had Bluestreak were sharing significant looks.

"Wha'?" I asked, feeling left out.

"Nothing at all!" Sideswipe grinned. Then, without so much as a whisper of warning, he flung me straight up into the air. I squealed in shock as I soared at least fifteen feet into the air before plummeting right back down towards the sea. Sideswipe caught me easily, and then tossed me right back up again, easily ignoring Bluestreak's startled squawk of protest.

If he had been trying to distract me, it worked beautifully. Soon the beach was echoing with my delighted shrieks and Sideswipe's laughter, occasionally interspersed with a grumpy comment from Sunstreaker or a plea from Bluestreak to be careful.

"We should go back now," Bluestreak said after a few moments of watching me being flung into the air over their heads with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, "She needs to refuel."

I landed in Sideswipe's arms for the last time and he passed me off to Bluestreak, still giggling. My spark was thrumming from the excitement; I wondered if there was a robot form of adrenaline. Sideswipe snickered when he saw my face; I imagined it was probably split with an excited grin. "Yeah, we'd better head back too," he said, stretching his arms overhead and glancing at his brother. "We only came out because we wanted to see the sparkling."

" _You_  wanted to see the sparkling." Sunstreaker corrected instantly.

"Whatever."

We all headed back to base together, on foot this time. The length of the walk allowed the hot sun to dry most of the seawater on my plating, and I basked in the warmth even as Bluestreak fretted over the risk of rusting. Once inside, I was subjected to the same curious stares as before, and I hid my face in Bluestreak's chest plating until we reached the rec room.

Thankfully, the rec room was practically empty. I was placed carefully on the floor as Bluestreak shuffled over to the energon dispenser to fill my special bottle, so I took the opportunity to survey just who was in the room; Jazz was poring over a datapad in the corner, and occasionally turned to Prowl who was sitting beside him for advice or an opinion on whatever he was reading. Ironhide sat alone in the corner, but was swiftly ambushed by the twins once they noticed him. That left one other mech on the other side of the room, and I took it upon myself to heave myself up and waddle over.

Optimus' seat at the very edge of the room almost hid him from view, and from the looks of it that was what he was hoping for. His shoulders were slumped and his optics were dimmed just slightly; a half empty energon ration was held limply in his left hand. His right hand propped his chin up as he stared into space. I felt almost bad interrupting him, as he obviously wanted to be alone, but he didn't look as though he  _should_ be alone.

I almost tripped on my unsteady legs right as I reached him, and had to clutch at his knee to stop myself from toppling right over. He glanced down at me, obviously startled, and I beamed, "Hi."

"Molly." he said after a moment's recovery. He paused for a moment, then set aside his energon and reached down to pick me up. Once I was settled on his knee, he murmured, "Why are you wet?"

"Go swim." I told him. My voice was still high and babyish, but I could swear I could hear it maturing as the weeks went on.

"Ah."

"Okay?" I asked, poking at his cheek instinctively. He looked at me bemusedly, and I realised cheek-poking probably wasn't a respectful way to communicate with the leader of the Autobots.

"Fine," he said, and then paused. Whatever he was thinking of caused him to heave a sigh, and he lifted me into a standing position with one foot on each of his thighs. His hands held mine, to keep me steady. We could see each other better like this, and he looked me in the eye as he spoke, "The war takes a toll on us all."

I nodded, somewhat unnerved by the sombreness of his mood. "Somet'n happ'n?"

"No, nothing like that." he assured me. I could almost swear the rumbling timbre of his voice was vibrating in my chest. "It can just be difficult, sometimes, to step back and remove yourself mentally from the headspace that is necessary for war."

I couldn't really understand where he was coming from, but my chest ached for him all the same. I couldn't imagine what it must feel like to have your entire planet torn apart by a bitter civil war, and to be haunted by that same war for thousands of years with no end in sight. It was a horrifying thought.

"Well," said Optimus, but this time there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "I shouldn't be burdening you with this. You're only a child, after all."

I scowled furiously at him, and sucked in an offended little gasp. "Am  _not_." I was a  _grown woman_ , damn it! It wasn't my fault I was stuck in baby's body.

Optimus boomed with laughter, the last bit of his melancholy mood slipping away like smoke. "Apologies, dear one," he said, trying to smother his chortles, "But the look on your face is nothing short of hilarious."

When Bluestreak arrived with my energon a few moments later and led me across the room to an empty couch, I looked back across the room at Optimus and watched him turn speculative once more. I couldn't help but wonder about what exactly it was that had him so melancholy. I wondered if their war would ever be over, and I wondered what exactly it would mean for me in the future.


	7. Chapter 7

"Hm." Ratchet was frowning as he peered at the results of the scans.

I pushed curiosity across our bond, but didn't speak out loud. If he wanted me to know, he'd tell me. I was pretty confident of that, at least. Sure enough, after another moment he turned so he could direct his frown at me.

"You've grown again." he said, brushing his hand over my head. His gentle touch belied the unhappy expression on his face.

"Yay." I beamed, sitting up unsteadily on the berth I had been laid across while he scanned me. When his expression didn't change, I hesitantly corrected myself, "Not yay?"

Ratchet worried at his lip; the malleable metal made a small screeching sound at it was rolled between his dental plates. "Optimus did say that your growth might be… unusual."

 _How unusual?,_  I wondered, before pushing the abstract confusion across the bond.

He helped me to stand on the berth, and then looked me over thoughtfully. "Well, I would estimate that you are now almost at the equivalent of a human four year old." He began, "That growth was… rapid. You were probably the equivalent of a human eight month old when you first arrived, and that was nine months ago. You are most certainly not growing at the rate of a Cybertronian sparkling, as it would have taken you a few hundred years to advance at the rate you've been going at. But you're not following a human growth rate either; you're growing even faster. It's… well, I'm just a little concerned. It's my job to worry."

I frowned; I could see where Ratchet's concern was coming from. He was worried that my rapid growth would propel me right into an early grave. The thought didn't exactly fill me with joy, either.

Ratchet pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head. "It's fine. It's all going to be fine," he murmured, mostly to himself. "Prime did say that there may be some discrepancies in your growth."

"'M weird." I said, thinking of the stares I garnered from the humans whenever I passed them in the corridors.

"No." Ratchet said sharply, leaning back so he could see my face properly. "You absolutely are not. Who said that?"

"No one." I said quickly, which wasn't strictly true. Lots of people said it, and on a semi-regular basis.

It was obvious that Ratchet remained unconvinced, but he at least dropped the subject. "We'll just have to continue to monitor you closely, starshine. There aren't any signs of complications from your rapid growth rate, so there's no need to be too worried." he smiled, but this time it was somewhat melancholy. "You're just growing up so fast."

I leaned into his hand, feeling a sharp swell of fondness rise in my chest. He really was a good dad. The best, probably, but I acknowledged that I might be biased. I pushed my fondness across the bond to him as best as I could, but I felt it didn't express adequately just how grateful I was to have him around.

His smile softened and brightened at the same time, and he looked genuinely happy as he stroked my cheek. He opened his mouth to say something, but we were interrupted by the sound of a  _boom_. Ratchet's medical instruments rattled on the table as he offlined his optics and appeared to pray for patience.

"That will be Wheeljack."

Within ten minutes, he was proven correct; the medbay doors slid open to admit Jazz and Sideswipe supporting Wheeljack in between them. They both had one of Wheeljack's arms slung across their shoulders, but their height difference made it seem comical.

I winced when I saw the state that Wheeljack was in; he appeared to have accidentally blown off one of his audial fins. Ratchet had taken to reading me medical texts to encourage me to sleep, and I remembered the distinctly a large section dedicated to the mass amounts of intricate wiring that made up those fins.

The sound that Ratchet made was very close to a shriek of rage. "What in  _Unicron's name_  were you trying to do this time?" he lunged across the med bay to assist, but the way that he hauled Wheeljack onto the closest medical berth wasn't particularly gentle. Wheeljack had just opened his mouth to reply, his face twisted in pain, when Ratchet continued, " _NO!_ Don't tell me, or I might be tempted to finish what you started and remove the other fin."

The medbay door slid open again right as Ratchet was peering at the exposed wires in Wheeljack's helm, and Colonel Lennox stormed in with Major Epps on his tail. "What happened?" he demanded, looking to Ratchet for an answer.

"Take a guess." Ratchet snapped, but he didn't look up.

"The lab that was  _purpose-built_  for Wheeljack has been blown to bits!" Lennox ignored Ratchet's brusque tone, caught up in his own rant, "That lab was bomb-proof!"

Sideswipe snickered from where he was still leaning against one of the medical berths. "'Bomb-proof' and 'Wheeljack-proof' are two completely different things."

Lennox sagged a little then, defeated. "Jesus." he rubbed his face tiredly. "This will be a paperwork nightmare."

"Go to Prowl, he'll sort it for you," Ratchet said distractedly, gesturing at me, "Molly."

I waddled to the end of the bed and waited until my dad caught me around the waist and put me beside Wheeljack on his berth. I guessed what was coming; we were going to play the game Ratchet had started a few weeks ago, at another of Wheeljack's many visits. I plopped down beside Wheeljack's arm and blinked expectantly up at Ratchet. He pointed at the exposed wound and raised an optic ridge. I peered at it, struggling to call to mind the medical text he had read to me. There were a few wires that had been charred to the point of breaking, and the scorched metal edges of the fins were shining wetly with energon. Looking closer, I could see a smaller device that had been displaced to the right of where it should be. I pointed at it, "Ah."

"Good." Ratchet patted my head briefly before picking up a pair of tweezers and leaning in. The most obvious problem was the little device that picked up the soundwaves and transferred them to the processor had been mostly charred; the wiring all around it would be time-consuming and difficult to mend, but there would be no point in fixing the rest if the actual audial device wasn't replaced.

"You're getting good at this, sparkling." Wheeljack praised with a wince as Ratchet started to dig around his melted plating.

"No talking to Molly until you explain yourself," Ratchet snarled, wielding his medical tweezers as though they were a weapon.

Wheeljack's hesitance was pretty understandable, but it was also common knowledge that there was virtually no point in trying to hold out against Ratchet.  _Especially_  not when Ratchet was the only person who could put you back together again. "Well. I was- ow! I was trying to create a device!"

"A device."

"Yes!" Wheeljack winced again as his sensitive wiring was tweaked. The bleeding was beginning to slow, at least. "I was experimenting with extradimensional space, trying to figure out how to transport matter through a space-time continuum, and-"

"And it blew up in your face."

Even with most of his face covered by his battlemask, Wheeljack managed to look distinctly miffed at having been interrupted. "In essence, yeah."

Jazz chuckled a little, before stepping around Epps and Lennox (both of whom were still staring with horrified interest at the gaping hole in Wheeljack's head) and scooping me up from the berth. "Hey Ratch, I'm gonna take Molly to the rec room. Sound good, baby girl?" he directed at me, cooing. I cooed back, delighted at the prospect of getting out and seeing something other than the staid white walls of the medical bay.

Ratchet paused, looking between me and Wheeljack. "Alright," he said after a moment, though I could feel some measure of hesitancy from him. "Behave."

Jazz snorted and waved as he carried me out of the med bay. Sideswipe followed after him, and together we all walked to the rec room. I received the usual stares from the human soldiers on base, but thankfully once we got to the rec room we found that it was devoid of humans. As soon as the doors slid shut behind us, I relaxed in Jazz's arms.

"Hungry?" he asked, already making his way towards the energon dispenser.

From behind us, Sideswipe made a squawking sound and lunged towards the far side of the room. I turned and craned over Jazz's shoulder in an attempt to watch his progress; on the far side of the room, Ironhide was attempting to install an enormous TV screen on the back wall. Prowl was beside him giving instructions although, judging by the irritated look on Ironhide's face, his instructions were not as helpful as he may have thought.

"What's this?" Sideswipe was yelling, bouncing over to them. "Are we  _finally_  getting some entertainment around here-"

I didn't get to hear the rest of Sideswipe's sentence, because the moment Jazz spotted Prowl he dived behind the energon dispenser, taking me with him. I almost squawked with fright at the unexpected movement, but Jazz had clamped his hand over my mouth. "Slag!" he whispered.

"Wha'?" I whispered back, mostly muffled by his hand plating.

"Prowl's here." he said, as though that explained why we were crouching on the floor behind the energon dispenser. "I'm kinda in trouble; I ignored his orders on my last mission and I've been avoiding him since."

I wondered if I should point out that Jazz was significantly larger than the dispenser, and that it was really a terrible hiding place. There probably wasn't much of a point; I peeked out from behind Jazz's shoulder only to spot Prowl's optics falling on Jazz's protruding legs.

"Right," Jazz continued, blissfully unaware of the tactical officer's approach from behind. "We're gonna make a run for it."

Right as Jazz jumped to his feet, Prowl stepped around the dispenser. In a display of shocking lack of grace, Jazz shrieked and turned to run but his foot slipped on a small puddle of energon that must have leaked from the dispenser and he promptly crashed back down to the floor. Before he hit the ground he threw me sharply up into the air, presumably to protect me from hitting the floor.

I shrieked as I whizzed through the air, only to be plucked back down by white hands. Prowl glared as he tucked me against his chassis, but the harsh look was directed at the bundle of limbs in front of the energon machine. "Jazz." he said tightly.

Still somewhat frightened from my brief flight, I clutched at Prowl's chestplates and couldn't help but feel a little surprised when he tucked me closer. Jazz peered up at us from the ground and offered a sheepish smile. "Prowler! Didn't see ya there!"

"Really." Prowl said flatly. He looked completely and utterly unimpressed.

I glanced between the two, uncertain. I had picked up on a lot of the interpersonal dynamics around the base after being exposed to them for the past few months, but Jazz and Prowl were admittedly confusing to me. One minute they were super close, the next it was like they couldn't stand each other.

"Come to my office," Prowl said, words clipped and short, "So that I can explain in painstaking detail what a dumbaft you are."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No." Prowl turned sharply on his heel and strode towards the door. As he walked, he adjusted me in his arms and then hiked me up so that I was perched on his shoulder. I grabbed at a doorwing to steady myself; the wing twitched, but Prowl didn't shake me off or anything so I figured he was alright with my clutching at him to keep my balance. It was refreshing being so high up, especially since I was sitting on my own and no one's arms were restricting me.

I glanced around and beamed at Jazz, who was slouching along behind us. He smiled back, though it lacked his usual brightness. I wondered if he was in trouble. Either way, Prowl was unmistakably annoyed with him; it was rare to hear the SIC be so outwardly irate. He hadn't even gasped overdramatically and slapped his hands across his mouth, which was what most of the bots did when they swore in front of me.

When we reached Prowl's office, he stood back and gestured for Jazz to enter first. Jazz made a beeline for the chair in front of Prowl's desk and slumped down in it instantly. "What's this about, Prowler?"

Prowl didn't answer immediately. First, he placed me on the ground and moved to his desk, where he spent a moment rummaging in one of his drawers. Jazz and I both stayed silently; we were obviously both equally intrigued. Finally, Prowl extracted a little box and a piece of paper, and then made his way back over to where he had left me. "These," he said, brandishing the box, "are a human invention. They are sticks of coloured wax called 'crayons'. You can draw with them."

Bewildered, I took the box of crayons from him. They were the perfect size for my fists, which meant that they must have been comically oversized for the average human child. I wondered where he got them from.

As if reading my mind, Prowl said, "I commissioned them specially. I figured it would be nice for you to have a creative outlet."

I wasn't sure if I was imagining the uncertain edge to Prowl's voice, but I looked up and beamed at him anyway. "Thank 'oo."

He gave me a tiny relieved smile in return. "You're welcome." he murmured, before standing and turning back to where Jazz was eagerly watching the exchange with an expression of delight on his face. Prowl's smile dropped instantly. "As for  _you-"_

I turned to the crayons as Prowl began to lecture. I hadn't drawn with crayons in  _years_ , since I had been a human child, but as I began to scribble on the paper I had been given a little smile began to stretch my face. I focused on creating colourful shapes and hearts and stars, delighting in the bright waxy drawings. I felt like a kid, a  _real kid,_ and it was wonderful.

"-unbelievably  _irresponsible!_ "

The crayons were insanely pigmented. I squinted at them curiously. They looked really impressive on the paper, despite my considerable lack of artistic talent. But I had only been given one piece of paper. I scowled at the lack of space on the page I had filled with my scribbles; I probably should have planned my drawing out, and been more economic with what I had been given. I didn't want to finish drawing just yet; it was the most stimulating thing I'd done in months of being with the Autobots. Unless…

My gaze shifted to Prowl's pristine white walls.

"-was part of the  _mission,_  Prowl! I was doin' my  _job_ , mech!"

"You could have been  _killed-_!"

I toddled toward the walls, sparing a single glance towards Prowl and Jazz. They looked pretty wrapped up in their own argument, and it didn't seem likely that they'd look away from each other anytime soon. I understood that Jazz was the Head of the Special Operations department within the Autobots - it was difficult to reconcile that fact with the Jazz I knew, the mech that cooed at me and fell face-first into the ground when Prowl had surprised him. But I also knew from the frequency of his visits to the medbay that Jazz was reckless with his own life when he was out on missions, especially when it came to putting his life on the line so he could save someone else. I figured that was probably what they were arguing about.

Maybe, I thought as I began ordering my crayons, selecting my black and white and blue ones, my drawing on the walls would distract them from their arguments. It might at least make them remember that I was in the same room.

I began drawing a messy outline of what was supposed to be Jazz. I hoped he wouldn't be too offended at how misshapen he looked.

"-my actions were necessary for the mission to succeed!  _Think_  for a moment, mech! I know ya agree wit' me."

"I  _would_ agree with you, but then we'd  _both_  be wrong."

As I started drawing Prowl, I couldn't help but admire the pigment of the crayons against the white walls. The white really made the waxy colours in Prowl's chevron and Jazz's visor pop.

I was so focused on drawing their hands interlinking that I didn't notice the sudden silence in the office.

Until Prowl spoke up. "What," he said from right behind me, "is that."

I squeaked as I whirled around to face him. They were both standing over me, peering incredulously at my drawing. I smiled sheepishly and pointed at it, as though they might have missed it. "For 'oo."

Jazz looked like he was about to melt. "Awww!" he cooed directly into Prowl's audio receptor. "Look!"

"I see it." Prowl said evenly, but he didn't look annoyed. In fact, his optics looked surprisingly soft considering I had just defaced his office.

"Aw, man. This is beautiful. If it wasn't totally unethical and a terrible example for the sparkling, I would definitely blackmail you with this." Jazz was grinning as he visibly took a memory-capture.

"Oh yes, because you're such a shining beacon of ethics." Prowl said snippily, but he had visibly calmed down. The look he shot me was reprimanding but  _almost_  fond. "You could have simply asked for more paper."

I tried to return the look he was giving me. And interrupt their argument? No thank you.

"I'll clean it up, if ya want." Jazz offered, still grinning.

"Hm?" Prowl glanced at him, and then back at the childish drawing of the two of them holding hands. "Ah. Well. It should probably be cleaned up eventually."

Jazz nodded and rolled his shoulders out. "Well, I'll bring the li'l lady back to Ratch and then I'll clean it off-"

"No, I-" cutting himself off, Prowl made a fake coughing noise into his fist. "Ah. It's fine. I said it would have to be cleaned  _eventually_. It doesn't need to be removed immediately."

Impossibly, Jazz's grin grew even wider. It looked as though it would soon crack his faceplates in two. "Wow, ya like it that much?"

Energon pooled in Prowl's cheeks, causing his pale facial plating to flush dark. "I didn't say-"

"Tha's alright!" Jazz sang quickly, scooping me up with one arm and hoisting me up on his shoulder the same way Prowl had. "I like it too! Tell ya what, I'll drop Molly back to Ratch and then I'll come back an' we can admire it together!"

Without further ado, he whisked me out of the office and began down the corridor. He chuckled quietly to himself as he walked, and then tilted his head so he could look at me where I was perched. "That was great, baby girl. Think you saved my aft back there."

I beamed, proud of myself. The crayons stayed clutched to my chest. I couldn't wait to draw again; I didn't particularly care whether it was on paper or the walls, either. If Prowl didn't get angry at me for drawing on the walls, then surely no one would.


	8. Chapter 8

Red Alert was staring.

He hadn't stopped staring, in fact, since we had entered the rec room.

This constant, heavy stare was starting to freak me out. And the worst part was that no one else seemed to notice!

The bots had managed to get the massive television screen properly fixed on the wall, and apparently the government had seen fit to provide them with a cable package; some excuse had been made about the Autobots learning about human society through popular culture. I had my own doubts about that method; right now, a cluster of bots sat around the large couches as they stared, transfixed, at the television that seemed to be playing nothing but reruns of The Jeremy Kyle Show.

"I've seen this one," Bluestreak was nodding knowledgeably. "His girlfriend had a secret affair with his father and his brother, and now they don't know who the father of the baby is."

There were a few scandalised gasps, but I was mostly preoccupied with the stare that seemed to be burning its way through the side of my helm. I edged closer to Ratchet, but he seemed just as preoccupied with the drama unfolding on the television as everyone else was. All the couches were occupied; Ratchet took up almost an entire couch to himself, his exhausted sprawl causing his limbs to practically drip off the couch. I sat on the floor between his knees, having wriggled down from his lap - I had thought that hiding behind his legs might dissuade Red Alert's gaze. I peeked out from behind one of my dad's legs again, and quickly retreated after realising Red Alert had still not looked away.

A cheer went up from the bots as one of the guests on the talk show jumped up and took a swing at the other guest, only to be held back by an improbably large security guard.

"Humans are so entertaining!" Smokescreen enthused.

Red Alert crept closer.

Alarmed, I ducked further under Ratchet's legs.

Utterly unperturbed by my obvious attempts at hiding, Red Alert came closer still. He was within a meter of the couches now, except he remained crouched on the floor as he attempted to peer into the dark space between Ratchet's legs.

"What are you doing, Red Alert?" my dad asked distractedly, barely looking away from the screen.

"Nothing." said Red Alert, very unconvincingly.

"The DNA results are in-"

Sideswipe frantically shushed everyone in the room, waving his servos dramatically. A solemn hush fell over the room as everyone awaited the verdict.

"Lisa… I'm afraid the DNA test has revealed that none of these men are the father."

A collective gasp sounded out throughout the room. Smokescreen nearly fell out of his chair.

Red Alert crawled closer yet again, except this time, now that the drama was over and the people on-screen were furiously storming off the stage and cursing, Ratchet actually noticed his position on the ground. "What in the name of Primus's left headlight are you doing down there?"

A few bots turned curiously at the question, and seemed equal amounts amused and unsurprised to see what was happening. Red Alert perked up from where he had been crouched into the floor and scowled. "I was observing the sparkling."

An annoyed hiss of hot air escaped Ratchet's vents. "Oh, not this again."

"As the Security Director of the Autobots," Red Alert continued, drawing himself up as tall as he could and affecting an air of dignity, "I think that she should be submitted to a full security check."

"No." Ratchet growled. I felt a little bad for Red Alert - it was hard to look dignified when you were crouched on the floor like a little goblin.

"You don't know what she could be hiding on her person!" Red Alert continued stubbornly.

In the corner, Jazz started to snicker. He was silenced by a quick and effective cuff over the helm from Prowl, who was pretending to read a datapad even as his optics flickered between the television and the scene playing out in the rec room.

"She isn't hiding anything." Ratchet said exasperatedly. The exhaustion in his voice was becoming more and more evident; he hadn't had any time off in weeks, and his ire at having his time off interrupted by Red Alert's antics was becoming increasingly obvious.

"She is!" Red Alert shrieked, then jabbed a finger in my direction. "Look at her optical sensors!"

Everyone in the room turned to stare at me. Mortified, I cycled my optics on and off in a slow blink, clutching at Ratchet's leg strut. All the bots staring at me looked as confused as I felt, but that was a small comfort.

"Wha's wrong with her optics?" Ironhide asked, peering over the back of his couch.

"They're huge!" Red Alert yelled. "It's not right! She could be hiding anything behind them!"

Ratchet drew himself up properly on the couch, looking offended. "What?"

"There's no logical reason for anyone's optics to be that big! My theory is that her helm is hollow, and there's a surveillance unit set up inside it; her optics are that big because she's recording everything!"

Now it was my turn to be offended; were my eyes really that large? I hadn't actually seen myself in a mirror yet, so I really had no concept of how I looked. It hadn't been something I had considered before, but now that I thought about it I was kind of bothered by it. And my helm was not hollow. Did I really come across as that ditzy?

Luckily, I didn't have to say anything in my own defence. Ratchet was offended enough for the both of us. His plating had puffed out threateningly, giving him the appearance of an angry cat. "She's a sparkling, of course her optics are big! Her face will grow into them!"

"The size of her optics fall outside the parameters of regular sparkling optic sizes! I checked!"

Ratchet seemed to hesitate for a moment. I tilted my head back to frown up at him, curious. I pushed my question to him over the bond, and I knew he picked up on my confusion by the way his brow contracted into a frown. "Well, yes," he admitted grudgingly, avoiding my gaze, "They might be a little larger than standard-"

"I knew it!" shrieked Red Alert, jumping to his feet. He pointed at me with a dramatic flourish. "She's a spy!"

"She's not." Ratchet growled, reaching down and tugging me up into his arms. Once I was secure against his chestplates, he levelled an intimidating glare at the security officer. "I will not discuss this with you again, Red Alert. Back off." The last line is delivered with nothing short of a snarl, and everyone in the immediate vicinity quailed away from the medic.

With that, Ratchet got to his feet and stormed out of the rec room. He was grumbling something fierce as he marched down the corridors, but I wasn't paying too much attention; my thoughts were still stuck on the exchange. Red Alert was overly cautious at best and outright paranoid at worst, but I couldn't help but feel that he was right. He had a reason not to trust me, after all; I wasn't really one of them. Granted, he didn't actually know that, but maybe it was instinctive? Maybe subconsciously, he could tell that there was something wrong with me.

Speaking of something wrong with me… I drew back from where I had huddled against Ratchet's chest and frowned at him. "My opteeks?" I asked. My vocalisations were getting better, but it still felt as though I was talking around a mouth full of marbles sometimes. My pronunciations were strange, but at least most bots seemed to understand what I was saying.

Ratchet huffed a hot vent of air out, but gradually started to slow his pace. "There's nothing wrong with them, stop worrying."

That answer wasn't quite good enough. My frown turned to a scowl.

Noticing this, Ratchet scowled in return. "Don't you look at me like that. If it was a concern, don't you think I'd be more worried?"

I shifted in his arms, considering. I supposed he was right. But just because they weren't necessarily a medical problem didn't mean that they were normal. "They're weird." I mumbled.

Ratchet's grip tightened on me for a fraction of a second, before loosening again. "They're… they're unusual." he conceded.

I recognised the route he was walking suddenly, and realised that we were heading for the main hangar. Were we going outside?

"Unusual doesn't mean bad," Ratchet continued, adjusting me so that I was perched on his hip strut. "They're unique."

I rolled the optics in question towards the ceiling, and was rewarded with Ratchet pinching my nose. I snorted with giggles as I tried to pull away, my small servos pushing at his face.

"Watch the attitude," he growled, but I could feel his side of the bond vibrating with amusement. He stepped into the main hangar, with me still hanging off his hip, and made a beeline straight for the hangar door leading outside. A whole load of human soldiers turned their faces towards us curiously, but Ratchet didn't spare them so much as a glance.

When we stepped outside, we were greeted by blue skies and sunshine. I turned my face towards the sun, delighted. "Where we goin'?" I asked as I reveled in the feeling of warmth against my plating.

"Bluestreak mentioned that he brought you to the beach a few months ago." Ratchet murmured, stepping further outside. "I had intended to bring you again, but work got busy and I never seemed to find time off - until today, anyway."

He kept marching forward, and it wasn't until we hit the line of trees that I realised Ratchet intended to walk the distance to the beach rather than transform and drive. It wasn't too bad an idea, I supposed; the island was small, the walk was short, and the scenery in the forest was beautiful. Even on a warm day like this, the forest was cool and soothing. It felt alive, and everything was so green. It got even better when we broke through the line of trees and the white sand stretched out before us. The deep azure blue of the sea married with the clear cerulean sky was nearly breathtaking.

I began to wiggle, signalling to Ratchet to put me down. As soon as I my feet touched the sand, I was running towards the water.

I could feel Ratchet's indulgent affection turn to startlement as he realised where I was running to. "Molly!" he yelled out, his heavy pedes kicking sand out in all directions as he gave chase. "Under no circumstances are you to get in that wat-"

The rest of his sentence was drowned out as I dove headfirst into the waves. The coolness of the water felt divine, and I wiggled through the water as quickly as I could before Ratchet could catch up with me. The sand at the floor of the ocean was silky soft to the touch, and I glided along the bottom for a brief moment before surfacing once again. As soon as my head broke the water, I was greeted to the sight of Ratchet swearing furiously and wading over to me.

He hauled me up into his arms, ignoring my squeak as he checked me over. "I specifically told you not to go in the water! Primus help me, if you develop a rust infection I will weld you to a medical berth and keep you there until you're fully grown."

I cackled, squirming in his grasp. "Down, down!"

"Rust is no laughing matter, Molly!"

I giggled again, helplessly. Sighing, Ratchet trudged out of the water and sat down heavily on the sand, before balancing me carefully on his knees. I flopped forward on his legs, enjoying the feeling of the heat from the sun as it dried the sea water on my plating. A heavy hand slowly stroked from my helm all the way down my spinal strut, and I hummed contentedly.

It was the most relaxed I had felt in ages, and I was pretty sure Ratchet felt the same way. The steady rhythm of the sea lapping at the shore and the familiar gentle hum of Ratchet's internal systems gradually lulled me into a dazed, trance-like state. I offlined my optics and let my head loll back, enjoying the steady stroking of Ratchet's hand down my spinal column.

"We're going to have to seal your plating," Ratchet spoke up suddenly, though it seemed as though he were talking more to himself than anyone else. "It won't eradicate the chance of rust, but it will at least lessen it. That way, you can swim all you want."

I hummed sleepily, pleased with this solution.

Ratchet's fingers stroked the area around my optics gently, the gesture unmistakably fond. "Little terror."

I ignored him, more than content to just lay there forever. It was the perfect day off.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! i would love to hear any feedback you guys have about this fic and how it's going! i hope you guys are liking it so far!

 

Wheeljack's laboratory was a  _no-no place_ , according to Ratchet. This was  _especially_  true when there was no one there to supervise. This, naturally, made me unreasonably curious about what was  _in there_. I wasn't stupid - I had seen Wheeljack be carted in and out of the medbay with a variety of different scrapes and scorches, so I had an idea of what kind of dangerous contraptions he worked on in his spare time. I was just so,  _so_  curious.

The ideal time to enter the lab was in the evening time, just after 7pm. Most of the bots gathered in the rec room for their evening ration, and mingled or watched TV together. I liked to think of it as 'bonding time'.

Once I had escaped from the med bay without my dad noticing, getting into Wheeljack's lab was embarrassingly easy. The door required either an access code or DNA sequencing - it was like the Cybertronian equivalent to a fingerprint. I didn't have the access code, but what I  _did_ have was the thumb that I had swiped from the medbay when Wheeljack had blown half his arm off a few weeks ago. His whole arm had to be reconstructed so it wasn't like he was going to be missing a single old finger anyway.

I stood outside the door to the lab, armed with nothing but overconfidence and Wheeljack's thumb.

Getting up to the code pad was a difficulty that I admittedly hadn't foreseen. The average size for most of the Cybertronians on base was between 18 and 22 feet tall (with Jazz and Optimus being exceptions in the short and tall categories respectively), which meant that I just about cleared their knees with my height of 6 feet tall. The contrast between feeling tiny when I was with the bots and feeling ridiculously huge and clunky as I toddled around the humans on base was still unnerving. The height difference, unfortunately, also meant that the code pad was way over my head.

Venting with frustration, I decided to do the only thing I could think of; I retreated to a reasonable distance and took a running leap at the wall. I collided with a painful  _crunch_ , but at least my arm had flown up and jabbed the thumb hard at the access pad.

When the door slid open, I practically fell into the lab through the open doorway, worried that it would slide closed again without warning. Taking a moment to straighten myself out, I glanced down to catalogue any damage; I had no injuries, but there were a few scuffs and dents from my collision with the wall.

I turned my attention to the lab itself and beamed. It was an absolute  _mess_  - exactly how I pictured it! Wheeljack seemed to keep his experiments and projects in a perpetual state of chaotic organisation; things were stacked and piled together in heaps that appeared neglectful but upon closer look seemed to be following some kind of bizarre pattern.

I padded further into the room, peering up curiously at the gadgets and half-finished electronics that littered Wheeljack's workspace. They looked odd for sure, but I couldn't see anything that looked  _dangerous_. I had honestly expected to see a lot more experimental weapons, but as it was I couldn't see anything that looked even remotely like an explosive. So how did Wheeljack keep getting injured?

As I explored the rest of the lab, a flash of colour on the wall down the back caught my attention. Roaming closer, I realised what it was; Wheeljack had pasted a crayon drawing I had done on the wall of his lab, just above his main workspace. The drawing was ambitiously colourful, and depicted a cranky Ratchet reattaching an arm to a mostly limbless Wheeljack. There was a grey lump next to Wheeljack on the berth, which was supposed to be me. My little spark buzzed with pride; I hadn't realised Wheeljack had kept it!

I set my hands on the work table as I tried to lean up to try and get a better look. As I tried to pull myself a little closer, my fingers brushed against what looked like a discarded lumpy metal ball with buttons on it. As soon as I made physical contact, I felt the oddest swooping sensation in my tanks.

I gasped and pulled my hand away quickly, but it was too late. It felt as though my tanks had been flipped upside down, and I wondered briefly if I was about to purge. The moment passed though, and I realised that my feet were no longer touching the floor.

It happened  _fast._  One second I was standing in front of Wheeljack's worktable, the next I had collided face-first into a hard flat surface for the second time in ten minutes. Groaning, I peeled my face off the hard surface and peered around; it was with an unpleasant jolt that I realised that I had not collided with a wall like last time, but had rather smashed face first into the  _ceiling_.

I surveyed the room below me. "Huh." I hummed thoughtfully, pushing any feelings of panic down deep; it was my fault that I was currently plastered along the ceiling, so there was really no point in panicking. Wheeljack must have been working on some kind of anti-gravity device, and I was unfortunate enough to come across it because I had snuck into his lab without permission.

Ratchet was going to  _kill me._

But, maybe if I could find Wheeljack quickly, he could fix this without Ratchet ever having to know! I checked my internal chronometer; bots would be starting to finish up their evening rations and some would even be retiring for the night. I had to act fast.

Other than some slight dizziness, I had no problem clambering to my feet. It was like my entire gravitational pull had been reversed - I bounced a little, just to make sure I wasn't going to plummet back down to the ground as soon as I started moving. Satisfied that I was definitely going to be stuck upside down for a  _while_ , or at least until I found Wheeljack, I padded my way over to the door.

I had miraculously managed to keep my grip on Wheeljack's detached thumb even as I was thrown to the ceiling, so all it took was another running jump and a  _smack_  into the wall for me to press it into the access pad. I bounced out the door as it slid open, and paused for a moment in the hallway. It took a few seconds to get my bearings and my sense of direction in order, but then I set off confidently down the hall towards the rec room.

The thought of Wheeljack being angry with me for sneaking into his lab without permission was making me more nervous the closer I got - I had never seen Wheeljack angry before, and I really didn't want him to be disappointed in me. Although, it was probably Ratchet's reaction I should be more worried about; if all went well, though, Ratchet would never even know this had happened.

I rounded the last corner before the rec room, only to freeze as I realised there was a mech walking towards me. I must have made some sort of noise, because his helm snapped up sharply and his optics cycled wider in shock when he caught sight of me.

There was a long moment where Red Alert just  _stared_. I stared back, hanging upside down from the ceiling and clutching the disembodied thumb to my chest. Then Red Alert started to shriek.

Panicking for real now, I made a break for it over his head and bobbed as fast as I could towards the rec room doors. I could hear him giving chase behind me, and I managed a burst of speed right as I dived for the open doors of the rec room.

"-as anyone seen her? I've been looking everywhere-"

That was  _Ratchet's voice_  coming from inside the rec room. It was too late to stop - I was already toppling in the doors, doing a little tumble on the ceiling and then sitting upright to peer nervously around the room.

Every optic in the room was trained on me; many mouths were hanging open in shock and bewilderment, and in several places bots had frozen with their energon halfway to their faces. Ratchet had been talking to Inferno, but had turned and frozen at my arrival. I could practically  _feel_ his gaze zero in on the thumb I had clutched in my hands.

The atmosphere of silent shock didn't last for very long; it was shattered by the doors sliding open again to admit Red Alert, who pointed up at me and shrieked " _We have to detain her!"_

A few bots started to laugh, though it was tinged with disbelief. From the back of the room, someone said, "Is that... is that a finger? Is she holding a finger?"

Ratchet stormed closer, though his annoyed expression morphed into one of concern as he got closer. "Molly," he began, and then stopped. He took a moment, seemingly to catalogue all my dents and scuffs. "What in the  _world-_? What are you  _doing_ up there?"

"She's holding  _body parts_ , Ratchet!" Red Alert screeched, "Who did she have to  _mutilate_ to get that finger!"

Ratchet took a quick vent, and then held out his hand toward me expectedly. "Give it."

Instinctively, I clutched it closer. I hadn't planned on getting caught so soon; I had hoped to keep the thumb to use again later. It would get me into loads of places that I wasn't normally allowed, I was sure of it.

"Aw!" Bluestreak whispered, "That's adorable!"

"She's holding a disembodied finger." Smokescreen replied dubiously.

"So?"

Cliffjumper raised his hand like a child in a classroom, "Shouldn't we be more worried about the fact that she's hanging upside down from the ceiling?

"You're more worried about  _that_ than the fact that she's running around the base carrying  _bits of people?_ "

In the corner, Sideswipe started to laugh.

"Shut up!" Ratchet growled at the room at large, before turning to look up at me. "Come down, Molly."

"Can't." I told him softly, still holding tightly to the thumb.

"Why?" he frowned, stretching a hand out to me. "I'll pull you down."

"Won't work." I took his hand anyway, and let him tug me down to him. He tried to set me on the floor, but as soon as he had let go of me I fell back up to the ceiling. I yelped as I landed hard, old dents jostled yet again.

Ratchet rumbled a startled apology. He stared at me for another long moment, before his expression set and he turned around to look at the rest of the room. " _Wheeljack._ Was this you?"

The scientist had been edging his way to the front of the room even before Ratchet spoke, but he winced at the sound of his name. "It wasn't me directly." he hurried to defend himself, and then apparently chose to ignore Ratchet's glare in favour of giving me a critical once over. He reached up and tugged me down a few feet, and then released me. I landed gently on my feet this time. His optics fell to the thumb in my hands, and his audio fins lit up white in surprise. "Sparklet, have you been in my lab?"

I nodded guiltily.

"Did you touch the device on my worktable?"

"...Maybe." I confessed.

Wheeljack huffed and turned to Ratchet. "It was a side-project I was working on. It reverses your centre of gravity - I was hoping to apply it to weapons manufacturing-" he trailed off as he noticed the murderous expression on Ratchet's face. "But this one was quite safe! Nothing dangerous about a bit of gravity reversal!"

"How do we get her down then?" Ratchet asked impatiently, his gaze still running over my little dents.

Wheeljack hesitated. "Ah… Well."

The speed with which Ratchet turned on him was startling. "Don't you  _dare_ tell me you don't know how to reverse it!"

"It'll wear off eventually!" Wheeljack yelled, panicked.

"How did she  _get into_  Wheeljack's lab?" Sideswipe interjected, leaning over the back of the couch to try and insert himself into the conversation. Everyone in the room was watching the exchange avidly. "Me and Sunny have tried  _loads_  of times-" he cut himself when he realised Red Alert was scowling at him.

"Well, I  _believe_ that it's  _my_  finger she's holding," Wheeljack said, and despite his battlemask his amusement shone strongly in his voice, "And the accesspad at the door will open only to mine, Prowl's, or Prime's mechabiological sequences. And probably Red Alert's security override codes." he grinned, "So I presume she used my detached finger to make her way in."

I nodded sagely, pleased that no one seemed all that angry with me. "Had'ta jump to reach." I told him, brandishing his finger.

His head fins flashed in silent laughter. "I'd bet you did."

"She could have been  _hurt!"_  Ratchet hissed, batting furiously at Wheeljack, "Stop encouraging her!" he turned to me then, and the stress was clear in his optics. "I was searching everywhere for you! Don't leave like that without telling me. And don't go somewhere so  _dangerous!_  You're banned from places like that for your own good!"

I shifted my feet guiltily against the ceiling. "Sorry."

"Where did you even  _get_  Wheeljack's thumb?" Red Alert butted in, still visibly distrustful of me.

"Medbay." I said.

"That was weeks ago." Ratchet frowned, eyeing Wheeljack's old thumb thoughtfully. "You've been hiding his disgusting blown off finger for three weeks?"

I held the thumb defensively. "So?"

"Primus!" Ratchet snarled. "Fine! If we can't get you down then we'd better get you back to our quarters. You'll just have to recharge on the ceiling." With that, he reached up to take me by the hand and marched me out of the room; it looked like he was holding a very strangely shaped balloon.

* * *

My centre of gravity shifted back to normal at around 10am the following morning. I had been hopping around the medbay ceiling when it had happened, and would have had a painful landing had Ironhide (who was in for a check-up) not dived off the medical berth in order to catch me.

I clapped enthusiastically, impressed by his fast reflexes, and he gave me a mock bow as he set me on my feet on the ground. I wobbled a bit, my gyros spinning dizzyingly before I managed to comfortably stand straight again.

"How do you feel?" Ratchet asked instantly, completely ignoring Ironhide as he bent to examine the little scuffs and dents I had gotten from my many collisions.

"Good."

He huffed, rubbing a little at a dent on my shoulder. "What part of 'be careful' do you not understand, hm?"

I grinned impishly at him and shrugged, hoping the cuteness effect might belay an oncoming lecture. It seemed to work, because he just huffed again and turned back to Ironhide with a curt order for him to get back on the berth. Taking advantage of his distraction, I edged towards the medbay door and tried to look innocent, "I'm goin' for a walk."

"What?" Ratchet whipped around instantly, glaring at me. "A walk to where?"

"Rec room." I said. I really just wanted to get out of the medbay for a while after having to hang from the ceiling for fourteen hours.

He seemed to hesitate, before caving. "Fine. But  _behave!_  And  _no_  going near Wheeljack's lab!"

"Okay." I agreed quickly, bouncing on my peds beside the doors.

"Go." Ratchet sighed and looked back to Ironhide.

Beaming, I raced out of the medbay. I loved spending time with my dad, but there was only so much of the pristine white walls and smell of disinfecting solution one could take. I passed a few humans on the way to rec room, who whispered at the sight of me. I wondered if they had heard about my recent gravity escapades, and sped up a little out of embarrassment.

I glanced around as I entered the rec room, hoping to spot someone that would be willing to get me some energon; I wasn't tall enough to reach the dispenser yet. There weren't too many bots around, but I spotted Smokescreen in a corner with a datapad so I began making my way over to him.

I hadn't even gotten halfway across the room before someone's hand closed around my upper arm and I was hauled out of the room and right back into the hallway. It happened so quickly that I didn't even have time to make a sound.

I opened my mouth, ready to belatedly bleat out of fright, but then Sideswipe was on his knees in front of me with his hands held up placatingly. "Please don't scream!" he said quickly.

My mouth closed slowly.

"Good," Sideswipe vented, relieved. He grinned then, and shot a thumbs-up over his shoulder at Sunstreaker, who was glaring at us. Well, mostly at Sideswipe. When he turned back to me, he spoke slowly, "Listen, we need a favour."

I squinted suspiciously at him. "A favour?"

"Do you still have Wheeljack's thumb?"

I scoffed at him.  _Of course_  I still had Wheeljack's thumb. "Yah."

"We need to borrow it."

"No." I said instantly. My arms crossed over my chest as I took on a defensive position; the thumb was hidden safely away in my subspace.

"Oh come on," Sideswipe wheedled. He was smiling charmingly. "You're not even using it right now."

I stepped back, scowling distrustfully.

"We'll bring it right back!"

"No." I put my hands on my hips for emphasis. I was going for an intimidating stance, but I realised pretty quickly that our size difference made any attempts at intimidation on my part pretty much redundant.

Sunstreaker huffed impatiently, moving to stand at his brother's shoulder. "Just bring her with us;  _she_  can use the thumb and just wait outside the door until we're finished."

Sideswipe barely paused to consider this idea before he was nodding. "Brilliant!" he cheered, and then he scooped me up with one arm and set off down the hall.

My vocaliser spat out a burst of surprised static and I was whirled down the hallways hanging off of Sideswipe's left arm. I struggled a little at first but quickly gave up when I realised how firm his grip was. I settled for scowling at Sunstreaker, who was following behind us at a significantly more sedate pace. He just raised an optic ridge at me.

Thanks to Sideswipe's speed, we found ourselves outside of Wheeljack's lab in moments. "Okay," Sideswipe held me out towards the access pad. "Thumb, please."

I dangled in mid-air, eyeing the access pad. "Why?"

Sunstreaker tilted his head back in frustration. "Will you just do it? The faster you do this, the faster you can go back to the rec room."

"What're you doin'?"

"None of your business." Sideswipe said brightly. He held me closer to the access pad. "Thumb, please."

"Why?"

"To open the door!" his grin had become somewhat strained. "Obviously."

" _Why?"_

"Because we want to look in Wheeljack's lab!" Sideswipe whispered impatiently, glancing around nervously. "Thumb!"

My chin jutted out obstinately and I crossed my arms. It probably didn't have the effect I had hoped for considering Sideswipe was holding me with his arms stretched straight out in front of him, causing me to simply dangle fifteen feet above the ground. "No."

The twins both groaned in unison. "What do you want for it? We can trade! All you've gotta do is open the door, and then we'll owe you one! There's gotta be something you want, right?" Sideswipe whipped his helm around to look at his twin. "What do sparklings like?"

Sunstreaker seemed to struggle with this. "Energon treats?"

 _What the hell is an energon treat?_  I wondered, trying to pretend I wasn't interested.

Sideswipe was nodding enthusiastically. "I have some rust sticks I've been saving! We'll give you some rust sticks if you open the door!"

I hesitated. "Rust sticks…  _and_  a favour."

"What's the favour?"

"Dunno yet." I shrugged.

They both stared at me for a long moment. "Demon child." Sideswipe whispered, but he was grinning. "Alright, fine. Rust sticks  _and_ a favour, if you open the door."

I unfolded my arms and reached into my subspace compartment; the thumb was nestled comfortably inside. Sideswipe held me close to the access pad, and this time I held the thumb up.

After the thumb was scanned and the door slid open, I pushed it hurriedly back into my subspace. The twins were busy creeping into the lab; I think Sideswipe had forgotten that he was still holding me, because he just tucked me under his arm like a football as he went.

"It's…  _cleaner_  than I expected it to be." Sunstreaker said after a moment. He sounded grudgingly impressed.

I wiggled a little, wanting to be put down, but Sideswipe seemed far too preoccupied with his exploration of the lab to notice. "What do you think all this stuff is?" he asked, peering at some of the contraptions laying about on the work table.

"Don't know." Sunstreaker said absently. His optics had caught onto the crayon drawing on the wall. "Hey, that yours?"

"Awww!" Sideswipe bounded closer, and threw me up over his shoulder so that he could lean in for a better look. "Jackie's sticking up drawings now? Maybe we should give him one of yours, Sunny."

"Shut up." Sunstreaker muttered, looking away from the picture. "So, where is it?"

The question seemed to be directed at me. I stared at him from where I was hanging off Sideswipe's shoulder. Where was what?

"The anti-gravity device." he clarified impatiently.

Oh. I pointed at the little unassuming gadget on the table below. "There."

"That's it?" Sideswipe sounded disappointed. "I was hoping it'd be like a gun type of thing. An anti-gravity gun, you know? Something cool like that."

"You thought the sparkling accidentally shot herself yesterday?"

I scowled at that.

"Guess I wasn't thinking about it too much," Sideswipe said absently, most of his attention being put into his effort to pick up the device without accidentally turning it on. Once it was in his subspace, he turned to his brother and grinned triumphantly. "We did it!"

That was when the lab doors slid open and Red Alert marched in. "Prowl's office." he said thunderously. " _NOW!"_

* * *

It turned out that Red Alert had been obsessively monitoring my whereabouts since my gravity incident the previous day.

"I saw the  _whole thing_ ," he insisted, pacing in circles. "They snatched her from the rec room and then bullied her into entering the lab again!"

His sudden attempts to defend me were confusing at first, but then I realised something. However much Red Alert disliked me, he disliked the twins  _even more_.

Prowl was pinching his nasal ridge, partially bent over his desk. "Yes, you've mentioned that. You've told the story four times, Red Alert, will you  _please_  sit down?" Once Red Alert had begrudgingly sat, Prowl turned his glare on the twins. "You have five minutes to explain yourselves."

The twins glanced at each other. Sideswipe shrugged. "I got nothing."

Prowl rubbed at his faceplates hard, and then looked at me. "I have called your father."

I blanched. " _No!"_

"Don't worry," Red Alert gave me what he probably imagined was a reassuring smile, "I will assure Ratchet that the twins kidnapped you."

"We didn't  _kidnap her-_ " Sunstreaker began derisively.

"You  _snatched_  her from the recreation room and  _coerced her_ into opening the laboratory doors! I  _saw it!"_

Prowl had tilted his head back and was staring at the ceiling. He looked exhausted. "Why does she even still have the finger?" he asked quietly, seemingly talking to himself.

The doors opened, and Ratchet burst into the room.

I braced myself for his anger, but all of his murderous rage seemed to be directed at the twins. "What kind of  _scrap-brained, irresponsible slag were you two planning to get my daughter tangled up in?"_

Sideswipe tried to duck under the desk. It didn't work too well; I'm pretty sure he got stuck. Sunstreaker seemed determined to face his punishment, but he couldn't hide his flinches as the yelling got louder and the cursing got more creative.

After almost five solid minutes of Ratchet's furious monologuing, he turned to me. "Are you hurt?"

"No." I held out my arms as proof and let him look me over.

He shot the twins a dark look, "If there had been so much as a scratch on her, I would have taken you both apart and sold you to a scrap yard." he picked me out of my chair and hauled me up, cradling me close to his chassis. "I thought I told  _you_  to stay out of trouble."

"Am I  _in_  trouble?" I asked as innocently as possible, looking to Prowl with my optics as wide as I could make them.

The second-in-command tapped a stylus off his desk thoughtfully, "Red Alert's account completely absolves her of blame. She's only really here because I thought she should wait here until you came to collect her. If you wish to take her back to the medbay you may; I must decide on a punishment for these two." he levelled a stern look at the twins, which fell short due to the fact that he had to divide his gaze between Sunstreaker, who was still sitting in front of the desk, and Sideswipe's aft, which was sticking out from where he was still stuck.

Sunstreaker reached down and hauled his brother up. Sideswipe popped out with a shriek of metal against metal, and sank back into his seat looking embarrassed and chastened.

"We'll be leaving then." Ratchet announced tiredly. Prowl just nodded and turned his attention to Red Alert.

When Ratchet turned around and marched to the door, I leaned over his shoulders to get a glimpse of the twins. When I caught their attention, I grinned and mouthed " _Rust sticks!"_

The door slid shut on their twin expressions of scandalised indignity, but I made sure to commit the sight to memory.

* * *

A few days later, Ironhide was found stuck to the ceiling in the rec room.

Ratchet squinted suspiciously at the scene as Wheeljack tried to get him down; it was an almost comical affair; with Ironhide pacing furiously along the ceiling and Wheeljack hurrying after him, trying to figure out how to reverse the effects as Ironhide roared at him.

"Do you know anything about that?" my dad asked, gesturing at them. Most of the bots on base had gathered in the rec room to watch and laugh.

I cycled my optics innocently, and smiled wide around the rust stick in my mouth. "No, daddy."

**Author's Note:**

> i'd love to hear comments about what you guys think!


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